House's Pain
by ladybellatrix
Summary: House is in pain, Cameron tries to help but will House end up helping her? Rated M just in case. I don't own House so please don't sue! *TEMPORARILY ON HIATUS - WILL RETURN TO THIS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE*
1. Chapter 1

Pain. Pain is all I feel. Every moment of everyday. I cannot escape it. Vicodin dulls it but does not rid me of it. And I cannot bear it. My co-workers know I'm in pain but they do not understand how much pain. How much I have to hide it every single day. It kills me to see the looks of sympathy or pity people give me. The poor man who needs a cane to walk. The poor man with the limp. I can't stand it. How I need to consider my leg in every aspect of my life – getting out of bed, getting on my bike or in a car, taking a shower, hell, even having sex. I need to think about the effect it will have on my damn leg. Having to lift my leg to get into bed, or onto my bike as my leg no longer has the muscle there to be able to do it of its own accord. I had to fit a damn grab rail in my shower because I can't stand for long without a form of support. There are some days the pain is so bad the only reason I'm able to stand at all is because of my cane, my hand holding it so tightly it makes my knuckles go white. It is on days like that where I spend most of my time at my desk, massaging my thigh, desperately trying to ease it but nothing helps. I know what kind of day it is going to be when I get up – if I can make it to the bathroom without my cane and without my leg giving way under me it is going to be a semi good day. If I can barely make it past the bed it is going to be a bad day. It is on days like these that I have to work even harder to hide the pain. To avoid wincing or grimacing when I do something. However, no matter how hard I try to hide it, there are always two people who seem to notice – Wilson and Cameron. Wilson I can deal with; he has seen me at my very worst, he saw me right after the infarction, he saw me go through hours of torturous physiotherapy, him I can cope with. Cameron on the other hand...she wants to fix me. She believes she can take away my pain, but she can't. No – one can. I am a bitter, crippled old man, who is beyond repair.

Today had been particularly bad. It was cold outside and trust me when I say that my thigh really does not like the cold weather. Cuddy forced me to do clinic duty as well as having a case to solve. I barely had time to sit down and so when I got home all I wanted to do was drown out the pain with Vicodin and scotch, which is precisely what I did. A few Vicodin and a couple of glasses of scotch later the excruciating pain in my thigh had lessened to a dull throb, but the pain was still there. As I sat, desperately rubbing my thigh to ease the tension in what remained of the muscle there was a tentative knock at the door. Growling in frustration I grabbed my cane and heaved myself off the sofa, limping heavily to the door. As I opened it I was greeted by the sight of the stunningly beautiful Allison Cameron, who was wringing her hands, worry etched all over her face. Sighing I leant against the doorframe, in a desperate attempt to take some of the weight off my leg. "What do you want Cameron?" I wasn't really in the mood for her and her overly caring personality. "I...I came to see how you were..." she replied quietly, not quite meeting my eyes. "Oh, I'm fine, just dandy, apart from missing a chunk of thigh muscle I'm brilliant, satisfied?" I went to close the door but she stopped it and looked me in the eyes, her beautiful hazel eyes gazing into mine. "I thought you could use some company. Can I come in?" As I looked at her I saw there was no pity in her eyes, just concern. I wanted her to be with me, but at the same time I didn't. It would mean I would have to put a mask on again, to hide how much pain I was in. My leg was starting to protest at the amount of time I had been standing on it so I gave her the briefest of nods and opened the door for her to come in, before hobbling back over to the couch, not letting her see how much pain I was in as I lifted my leg onto the coffee table. She came and sat down next to me and I could smell her perfume. It was intoxicating. She looked at me before saying softly "you don't have to pretend for me. I know you are in pain. You don't have to hide it from me." I glared at her. "I don't know what you are talking about Cameron, and if you are here to nag, please just get it over and done with and leave me in peace." She smiled sadly as she kept looking at me, but wisely decided not to press the subject as she asked "have you eaten? Do you want to get take – out? My treat?" I look at her and the corner of my mouth twitches slightly as I reply "well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?" She beamed, the smile that seems to light her entire face up. I watched as she ordered Chinese for us before disappearing into the kitchen and returning with two beers. "Make yourself at home why don't you?" I sniped, secretly pleased that she was so at ease with me in my home. She smiles that beautiful smile again as she settles down on the couch "anything good on the TV?" She asked as she picked up the remote, flicking through the channels. Slightly irritated I grab the remote off her "my TV, my rules." I snipe as I find an old black and white movie to watch. There is a knock at the door and Cameron goes to answer it, paying the delivery boy and returning with two bags filled to the brim with greasy Chinese goodness. We eat in silence, the only sound coming from the TV, but the silence is comfortable, Cameron stealing occasional glances at me when she thought I wasn't looking. We finish the food and beer and sit back on the couch, comfortably full when I realise I need to pee. I look over at Cameron, her eyes are closed, which I thought to be the perfect time to move my leg off the coffee table. It hurts and I suppress a slight whimper. With my leg off the table I swallow two Vicodin and glance over at Cameron again. Her eyes are still closed. I grab my cane and try not to put any weight on my leg as I stand. I can barely move, finding myself having to rely on furniture and the walls as well as my cane to help me get to the bathroom. I relieve myself, wash my hands and start to head back to the living room, back to the sleeping beauty that is currently on my couch when I feel it. The white hot pain in my thigh, so agonising I have to clamp my free hand over my mouth to stop myself from screaming. I fumble in my pockets for my Vicodin before slowly realising I left it on the table in the living room. Taking a deep breath I take a tentative step forward but my leg refuses to co – operate and I fall to the floor, yelping as my thigh comes into contact with the floorboards. I hear a voice from the living room "House?" I hear her get up and pad around, trying to find me. "House? Where are you - ?" she stops mid sentence as she sees me, laying on the floor, my hand gripping my thigh. She rushes to me "House? Can you hear me? What happened?" I can't answer her, all I can manage is "Vicodin...c-coffee table..." She nods and disappears, returning with the orange bottle. "How many?"  
"T- three."  
I feel Cameron's eyes on me and I look up at her, my eyes pleading and she nods, tipping three pills into my hand. I dry swallow them and slump back, waiting for them to take effect. Luckily they are pretty fast acting and soon the white hot pain diminishes to a sharp, but almost bearable pain. Cameron stands over me, watching me sadly. "House, I need to move you, you cannot stay in the hall all night." The thought of moving makes me whimper and I shake my head. She crouches down next to me and takes my free hand in hers "please House, for once let someone help you, just let me get you to bed then I'll leave." For some reason the thought of her leaving makes me go cold inside and I squeeze her hand slightly, nodding my consent. She smiles slightly and hands me my cane before curling her thin arms under my armpits. "Ready?" She asks me gently. _No, I'm far from ready. This is going to hurt. _I thought bitterly but nodded anyway. With surprising strength for such a little girl she pulls me to my feet before wrapping her arm around my waist and curling my free arm around her shoulder as I try to regain my footing. "OK, the hard part is over with, just a few steps to your bedroom." Her voice is gentle but in no way patronising or condescending which I appreciate. I gasp in pain as I take that first step and I suddenly become very grateful that this beautiful creature is at my side. With Cameron's help I slowly get to my bedroom and collapse on the bed, blinking back the tears of pain that are threatening to fall. I watch as Cameron places my Vicodin on the bedside table and I quickly grab it, swallowing two more, not caring whether she saw me. She didn't, she was too busy removing my trainers for me. She stands and takes my cane, propping on the bedside table. She stands and looks at me, unsure of what to do next. I help her, saying "I'm not a complete invalid Dr Cameron, I can undress myself." And I pull my shirt and t – shirt off to show her. She blinks, staring at my bare chest and I suddenly become quite self – conscious. She shakes her head and smiles softly "do you want anything before I go?" I had to press my lips together to stop myself from saying "you" so I simply shake my head. She gives a slight nod and smiles "well, I guess I'll be going. I hope you feel better tomorrow House." She goes to leave when, for a reason still unknown to me, I grab her wrist. I can't look at her as I murmur "stay. Please." She stares at me for a moment before nodding. "I'll sleep on the couch."  
The thought of her leaving me alone suddenly terrifies me and I shake my head "the bed is big enough for two...please?"  
Its the first time I've ever said the word 'please' twice in the space of five minutes. She smirks and says "well, the tables have turned. Usually it's me trying to get you into my bed Dr House, not the other way around." Her comment stings more than it should and I look away from her. She obviously feels bad as she removes her shoes and jacket and climbs into bed with me. I smile softly as I look at her but I'm broken out of my reverie by a sharp pain in my thigh. Hissing in pain I rub my leg, trying to ease the tension out of the muscle. I'm concentrating so hard on it I don't notice the small delicate hands that take my wrists as she says "let me." She gently runs her hands over my leg, before massaging it deeply, somehow being aware that despite the amount of pressure she was putting on it, she wasn't actually hurting me. "You know, this would be a lot easier if I wasn't doing it through your jeans," she says in a quiet voice. At that suggestion I tense – my scar is a very private thing. Only Wilson, Cuddy and Stacy have been allowed to see it. I look at Cameron and see the love and care in her eyes and I nod slightly, for some reason knowing that she will not pity me. I unbuckle my belt and undo my jeans, raising my hips to push them down. Cameron helps by pulling them off and she waits patiently as I settle back down on the bed. Cameron tilts her head slightly as she looks at my scar and I turn my head in shame. "Oh House," Cameron whispered softly. I still can't look at her so I'm surprised when I feel her hair brushing against my leg and as I turn to look at her I see she is leaning down and gently kissing my scar. Blood seems to rush straight to my groin and I moan softly. She mistakes my moans of pleasure for moans of pain and she stops, sitting back to look at me. "Don't stop..." I murmur and she smiles, leaning back down and kissing my scar tenderly, her hand caressing my thigh, moving higher until her fingers brush my erection. She looks up at me and raises an eyebrow. I look back at her and smirk "well, what do you expect? I have a beautiful woman rubbing my thigh." She looks me in the eye and smiles softly, her delicate hands reach up and caress my cheek and it takes all my willpower not to lean into her gentle touch. She moves up the bed slightly as I ask her "All - ...Cameron, what are you doing?" She presses a finger to my lips to silence me as she leans in and softly places her lips to mine. For a second I'm too stunned to do anything, but then I start to kiss her back, moaning softly with pleasure as her hands run down my body. I feel her hand go to my damaged thigh, which she strokes gently as she deepens the kiss. I realise that as much as I want this I can't do it. Not to her. It wouldn't be fair so I pull away from the kiss. I can't look her in the eye. I don't want to see the hurt that I know will be there. I simply whisper two words "I can't."


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is told from Cameron's POV, read, review and enjoy!**

I can't stand it. I can't stand seeing how much pain he is in. He thinks I don't notice but I do. Every flicker of pain that crosses his face, every slight wince or grimace I notice. I know when he is having a bad day by the way he holds his cane. It is a bad day for him when his knuckles are almost white from gripping his cane and it is on days like that it takes all I have not to go to him and massage his pain away. It breaks my heart seeing him in such pain. Contrary to what he might believe, I do not want to fix him. I love him just as he is. All I want to do is ease his pain, is that such a bad thing? I wish I didn't care. I wish I could just see him as my miserable, crippled boss but I can't. And it kills me.

Today had been a hectic day for all of us. We'd had a difficult case but we solved it (as we always do) and so, come the end of the day, all each of us wanted to do was go home, collapse on the sofa and have a drink. However, when I got home all I could think about was House. I knew today had been particularly hard for him. His thigh does not like the cold January weather, nor does it like the fact that House had barely sat down all day. Against my better judgement I grabbed my bag and jacket and drove over to his. It was only once I was standing at his door did I realise what a bad idea it was, he wouldn't want me there treating him like he was some kind of patient. Gathering my courage I knocked tentatively. I was about to leave when I heard his unsteady gait near the door and as soon as he opened the door I knew I had made the right decision to come. Eventually he let me in and I smiled softly as I took in my surroundings, my eyes falling on the piano on the corner. My eyes drift from the piano to my boss as he lowered himself onto the couch. I drop my bag on the floor and sit down next to him, trying not to move too much lest it jostle his leg. As I looked at him I knew immediately his masks were back on and I tried to reassure him by telling him "you don't have to pretend for me. I know you are in pain. You don't have to hide it from me." He glares at me and suggests that if I'm there to nag him to get it over and done with. I decide not to press the matter as he obviously in no mood for talking so instead I appeal to his love of fast food, offering to pay. Of course he couldn't resist, which made me smile. After I ordered I was undecided whether or not I should take control and get drinks, but one look at his face told me he didn't really want to move again so I went into his kitchen and grabbed two beers. I feel strangely at home in House's apartment, to the point where I pick up the remote and start flicking through the channels. This seemed to irritate House as he stole the remote back. When the Chinese arrived we ate in silence, but it was a comfortable silence which I was silently thankful for as I didn't think he was in the mood to talk. Filled to the brim with food and beer I laid my head back and closed my eyes. House must have thought I was asleep as I felt him move his leg. I kept my eyes closed, knowing he would not want me seeing him show any hint of weakness or pain but when I heard him whimper it took all of my self control to keep my eyes closed. I heard him move away from the couch and down the hall towards the bathroom. I opened my eyes and looked around, smiling as I properly took in House's apartment. How it was all so perfectly _him. _How the furniture was spaced widely enough for him to get through with his cane, but not so wide that he cannot use it as support should he need it. I was marvelling at his full floor to ceiling bookcase when I heard a thud on the floor. Concerned I stood and moved toward the hall "House? Where are you - ?" I stop as I see him on the floor, his hand clutching his damaged thigh. I swallow back the lump in my throat as I go to him, when I ask him what happened he cannot reply, he just simply tells me where his Vicodin is. I leave him to grab it and I raise my eyebrow when he tells me he wants three. However, one look in his pleading eyes and I relent, tipping three into his palm. I watch as the tablets take effect, breathing a quiet sigh of relief as the pain slowly seems to subside. I realise he cannot stay where he is and I gently tell him that I need to move him and the look of fear in his eyes is almost heartbreaking. I take his hand and gently say to him "please House, for once let someone help you, just let me get you to bed then I'll leave." I don't really want to leave but this seems to get through to him and he nods. I hand him his bitchin' cane before moving around and placing my hands under his armpits and gently pulling him to his feet, waiting until he was steady before sliding next to him, wrapping one arm around his waist and taking his free arm and wrapping it around my shoulder. Even though House isn't particularly heavy I still silently thank God for the weight training exercises I have been doing recently. I tell him gently that the hard part is over before we slowly make our way to his bedroom, his limp so pronounced I have to swallow back a lump in my throat. I help him to his bed and sit him down, before crouching down in front of him and gently removing his trainers. I'm not sure what to do next but in typical House fashion he breaks the tension by telling me "I'm not a complete invalid Dr Cameron, I can undress myself." I can't help but stare as he removes his tops, his body is beautifully toned, his arms well defined and I just stare at him. I break out of my reverie and ask him if he wants anything and when he tells me he doesn't I smile and tell him that I will see him in the morning. What he does next surprises the hell outta me – he grabs my wrist and asks me to stay. One look into his crystal blue eyes and I melt, like I always do and I nod, telling him I'll sleep on the couch. He manages to surprise me again when he says to me "the bed is big enough for two...please?" I'm not entirely sure what to make of this, I have loved and lusted after this man for so long yet now he is willingly inviting me into his bed I suddenly feel...that I can't. That I would be taking advantage of him and I couldn't live with myself if I were to do that. However, I can't let him know that is what I'm really feeling so I say to him "well, the tables have turned. Usually it's me trying to get you into my bed Dr House, not the other way around," and he smirks slightly. I take off my jacket and shoes and move round to the other side of the bed, climbing in next to him. I can't seem to take my eyes off him – this is everything I have ever dreamed of, but I can't help but frown as I hear him hiss in pain, desperately rubbing his thigh. I want so desperately to help him so I gently take his wrists and move them away from his thigh, before I start to massage his damaged leg, my fingers feeling the deformed scar through his jeans. Summoning courage from somewhere I take a deep breath and say to him "You know, this would be a lot easier if I wasn't doing it through your jeans." I know I'm asking a lot from him and I can feel him physically tense so I look up at him and try to show him through my eyes that all I want to do is care for him and as he nods I know he sees my love for him. He undoes his belt and jeans and slides them off his hips, lifting himself slightly to get them past his butt and I help pull them the rest of the way off. I take in the deep and jagged scar, having never realised how bad it actually was. I didn't realise I could possibly love House anymore than I already did but after seeing his scar I thought I would explode for all the love I felt for him. But along with that love I felt something else. Hate. Hatred towards Stacy and what she did to him, hatred for knowing that there was little I could do to ease his pain and as I glance up at him I see he has turned his face away and all I can say is "oh, House." When he still doesn't turn to look at me I do something very unexpected – I lean down and gently press my lips to his scar, kissing it tenderly. He moans and I sit back up, terrified I have hurt him, but when he tells me not to stop I lean back down and softly kiss what remained of his thigh, my hand gently caressing his skin. I have no idea what I'm doing but when my hand inadvertently brushes his erection I realise that he is obviously enjoying it. I can't help but raise an eyebrow at him though, but in usual House fashion he says to me "well, what do you expect? I have a beautiful woman rubbing my thigh." Suddenly I can't take it anymore. I reach up and gently touch his cheek and as he asks me what I'm doing I press my finger to his lips to silence him. I lean forward and do something I have dreamt of doing ever since I have met him – I press my lips to his. He hesitates and for a second I'm terrified but then he starts to kiss me back and I'm flooded with emotions, but the one at the forefront is lust and I run my hands down his body, before gently resuming rubbing his damaged thigh. I deepen the kiss, needing him, wanting him so badly I can hardly stand it. However, as I do he pulls away and I know. I know he doesn't want me. He can't look at me as he whispers two words: "I can't."


	3. Chapter 3

**Back to being from House's POV, House slightly OOC in this chapter. I don't own House M.D or anything so don't sue!**

My heart breaks as I see the look on her face when I tell her I can't. I don't mean that I can't ever kiss her or be with her. I meant I can't tonight – I'm in too much pain but somehow I can't find the words to express this to her so I just sit there as I watch her slide off the bed and gather her things. My heart wrenches as I see the tears that roll down her cheeks. I know there is nothing I can say to get her to stay now. She stops at the doorway and without turning around says "I know you are too proud to accept help House. I understand that and I accept it. However, when you are ready to let someone in, when you are ready to let someone help you, give me a call. I don't want to fix you. I just wish I...I wish I..." she sighs sadly and shakes her head "never mind. Goodnight House. I hope your leg feels better," and with that she walks down the hall and out of my apartment and for a second I just sit there and let her words sink in. I want so badly to let her in, but after Stacy...however, Cameron is not Stacy. She would never betray me.

I pound the mattress in frustration. Why do I have to be so fucking useless? My stupid crippled leg preventing me from taking the woman I love and making love to her all night. My stupid crippled leg making me look so weak in front of her. I look down at my scar and I bite my lip as I run my hand over it, a constant reminder of Stacy's betrayal. As I touch it I'm reminded of Cameron's feather – light kisses on it and I can't help but smile. I have decided what I'm going to do. Wincing, I move myself to the edge of the bed and I quickly swallow two Vicodin before standing tentatively, placing most of my weight on my left leg as I pull my jeans back up. I stuff my feet into my trainers, not bothering with socks and I grab my cane and try putting weight on my bad leg, a searing pain going through my thigh as I do. I suppress a whimper and sit back down on the bed, rubbing my thigh. Anger builds inside of me and my hatred for Stacy grows. This is all her fault. I wish Cameron was here, she would not have let me move, she would help me with no judgement or pity. I swallow hard and am now more determined than ever to do this. I need to see Cameron. I need to explain and it is not something I can do over the phone. I grip my cane tightly and stand, moving slowly towards my bedroom door. OK, that was harder than I expected. I lean against the doorframe and pop another Vicodin. I move tentatively down the hall and rest against the couch, breathing heavily. I frown as I look at my keys – which mode of transport to take? It's going to hurt like hell no matter which one I take so I decide to take the bike. I grab my jacket and I limp slowly towards my beautiful bike. I use my hands to lift my damaged leg over, grimacing as I do. That really hurt. I wait for the pain to subside before I start the engine and head towards Cameron's.

I pull up outside her apartment block and am relieved to see her light still on – she has not gone to bed yet. I move off my bike, once again having to use my hands to lift my bad leg over. I grab my cane and breathe heavily, leaning on my bike as I wait for the pain to subside. I grip my cane tightly as I limp to her apartment block and as I go in the front door I'm reminded she lives upstairs, and there is no lift. I scowl and quickly swallow two Vicodin before I slowly begin to make my way up the stairs, every step is torture and I have to stop halfway, my hand clutching my thigh, although I know it won't make a difference. I climb the final few stairs and practically drag myself to Cameron's door. I lean heavily on my cane as I knock, hoping she will answer. I know I must look a mess – I can feel the sweat pouring down my face and my whole body is trembling. She eventually comes to the door and I notice her tear – stained face and all of a sudden I feel so guilty. I smile weakly at her. "Hi...can...can we talk?" I can barely stand and I fumble for my Vicodin, my trembling hands unable to pop the lid. Cameron takes it from me and opens it, tipping two into my hand which I quickly swallow. She doesn't say anything as she gives me back the pills before taking my arm and helping me into her apartment. She sits me down on the couch and disappears, quickly returning with two glasses of scotch. She gives me one before sitting down next to me, still not saying anything, nor looking at me. I take a sip of scotch and savour the liquid as it goes down my throat. "Cameron..." I begin but she cuts me off by saying "what do you want House? You have proven yourself to be a complete idiot by coming here with your leg the way it is and you have already told me on numerous occasions you don't want me so why are you here? Why must you continue to torment me?" I look at her and sigh sadly, before saying quietly "Cameron, please try and make me understand why you like me. Please." I try to keep the pleading tone out of my voice but I'm not sure I'm successful. With a sigh she stands up and faces me, her hazel eyes looking directly into mine. "I like you because of who you are. I like the fact that you are tactless and rude and misanthropic. You are quite possibly the most intelligent person I have ever met. You are handsome and when I look into your eyes I feel like I'm drowning. And I..." she stops and bites her lip, trying to prevent herself from crying. I look at her and press her gently to finish her sentence "and you...what?"  
"And I love you," she whispers. "I'm in love with you. I have been since the day I met you. Now are you happy? Are you going to tell me how pathetic I am and how I don't really love you, I'm just imagining it? That it's simply an infatuation? Are you going to tell me I think I'm in love with you because you are damaged? Well, for your information Greg House I love you regardless of whether you are crippled or not! Whether or not you need this," she grabs my cane from me and holds it in her hands "it doesn't matter to me. So now you know. Feel free to mock me!"  
I sit there, slightly stunned. I knew she liked me, I never knew her feelings went as deep as that. I want to tell her that her feelings are reciprocated. That somehow she has managed to break down every single one of my defences without even really trying. I open my mouth and all I can manage to say is "can I have my cane back?" She hands it back to me and I use it to push myself to my feet, even though I know my leg cannot really take much more. I gently take her slender wrist and pull her towards me, looking at her intently. I feel strange. As I pull her towards me I have this feeling that I never want to let go of her again. She doesn't say anything as I pull her to my chest, before releasing her wrist and slowly wrapping my arm around her. She resists at first, then she seems to melt against me and nothing has felt more right in my entire life. What the hell is wrong with me? Emotions I never knew I had were bubbling to the surface as she wraps her arms around me, hugging me tenderly. I kiss the top of her head and say to her "Cameron...can we sit down? My leg..." I grimace and she nods, helping me to sit back down. I hate being so weak in front of her but the look in her eyes as she gently puts a cushion under my bad leg tells me she really doesn't think of me as weak. Talking about emotions never really was my strong point and I think carefully about what I say next "Cameron...I'm not going to mock you. When I told you that I can't I meant that I physically can't, not that I don't want to. Kissing and the way you were touching me...it would have led to other things and I..." I look away, unable to say that I would have been in too much pain. I feel Cameron entwine her fingers with mine as she says gently "I understand. I know you have bad pain days and when you do it kills me inside because I know I can't help you. I always know when you are having a bad pain day."  
I turn and look at her, raising an eyebrow, not even Wilson knows when I'm having a bad pain day, or if he does, he doesn't tell me. She nods and tells me "your limp is more pronounced, you grip your cane tighter, your eyes seem to lose their sparkle and you try and do as little walking as possible. You also rub your thigh a lot more."  
I stare at her before quipping "clearly my powers of observation are rubbing off on you."  
She giggles softly and my heart begins to beat so loudly in my chest I swear she can hear it. God, what the hell is wrong with me? What I'm feeling isn't rational and it scares me slightly. Every single barrier and wall I have put up over the last few years are being destroyed bit by bit by this petite beauty who sits next to me. I feel her squeeze my hand and I look at her, my blue eyes staring straight into her hazel ones as she whispers "please. Let me in."

**A/N – hope you are enjoying this. I kinda like my idea of it going back and forth between it being House's POV and Cameron's POV, what do you think? Please review, it makes me so happy **


	4. Chapter 4

"I can't." His words are like a slap in the face. My mind becomes numb as I slide off the bed, tears rolling down my face as I pick up my shoes and jacket. Why do I keep doing this to myself? Why do I keep going back to him? I knew it was too much to expect him to be anything than himself. As I move toward the door I decide to tell him some truths, so without turning to look at him I say "I know you are too proud to accept help House. I understand that and I accept it. However, when you are ready to let someone in, when you are ready to let someone help you, give me a call. I don't want to fix you. I just wish I...I wish I... never mind. Goodnight House. I hope your leg feels better." I want to tell him how I wish I could alleviate his pain, how every time I see him wince, when I see him rub his thigh, my heart breaks but I can't. I leave his apartment without saying another word as tears silently stream down my face.

Despite the fact I'm nearly blind with tears I somehow manage to get home safely. I drift into my apartment in a daze and as soon as I shut the door I slide down the wall and sob. I'm so confused by him. I saw a glimpse of him. He let me in, albeit temporarily. He showed vulnerability by letting me see his scar. He was clearly aroused by me. Yet when we began to kiss to take it to the next level, he pushed me away. I manage to calm myself down, brushing my tears away when I hear a knock at the door. I freeze, knowing that knock anywhere. How could he have got here? He must be in so much pain and I quickly get to my feet, composing myself before I open the door to him. I hold back a gasp as I take in his appearance – he is sweating, his face is deathly pale and he is trembling as he attempts to lift the lid off his Vicodin. Because he is shaking so much he can't so I take the pill bottle from him and lift the lid, pouring two into his hand before taking his arm gently and leading him into my living room. I find myself in desperate need of a stiff drink and judging by his appearance, so does House so I go to the kitchen and return with two glasses of scotch. I hand one to him before sitting next to him, not wanting to start the conversation. However, when he begins to start speaking something in me snaps and I say to him "what do you want House? You have proven yourself to be a complete idiot by coming here with your leg the way it is and you have already told me on numerous occasions you don't want me so why are you here? Why must you continue to torment me?" I'm actually a little surprised at how angry I sound. What surprises me even more is how he reacts. Instead of the usual sarcastic comment or snipe, he seems to be pleading with me, asking me why I like him. Exasperated, I stand up and look straight at him, gazing into his beautiful blue eyes as I tell him "I like you because of who you are. I like the fact that you are tactless and rude and misanthropic. You are quite possibly the most intelligent person I have ever met. You are handsome and when I look into your eyes I feel like I'm drowning. And I..." I stop myself, biting my lip as I feel tears well up. He presses me so I whisper "and I love you." I can hardly believe what I'm saying, but it gets worse as words just start spilling out of my mouth of their own accord "I'm in love with you. I have been since the day I met you. Now are you happy? Are you going to tell me how pathetic I am and how I don't really love you, I'm just imagining it? That it's simply an infatuation? Are you going to tell me I think I'm in love with you because you are damaged? Well, for your information Greg House I love you regardless of whether you are crippled or not! Whether or not you need this," I find myself grabbing his cane and holding it tightly in my hands as I continue "it doesn't matter to me. So now you know. Feel free to mock me!" I can't believe I have just told him all that. I have just opened myself up to him and he is just sitting there staring at me. I'm not entirely sure what to do. I'm still standing there like an idiot holding his cane, feeling his blue – eyed gaze on me. Eventually he says "can I have my cane back?" and I can't help but smile softly as I hand it back to him, before watching him use it to help push himself to his feet. _What is he doing? _My mind screams at me as he takes one of my wrists and gently pulls me towards him. It's almost like we are magnetised and I allow myself to be drawn to him. When I'm so close our chests are practically touching he lets go of my wrist and wraps his arm around me and I stand there, frozen. However, his touch, his scent is too intoxicating and I melt against him, wrapping my arms around his waist, holding him close to me. I have never felt anything like this in my entire life and it scares me a little. We stay like that for a few minutes, until I feel him pressing his lips to the top of my head in a gentle kiss before he says "Cameron...can we sit down? My leg..." I look up and see the grimace of pain on his face and I nod, helping him back onto the sofa. Not knowing what else to do I gently place a cushion under his bad leg and I become almost overwhelmed with hatred towards Stacy for what she did to him. I glance at him and try to tell him that I do not think he is weak, without saying any words. What he says next though, shocks me to the core: "Cameron...I'm not going to mock you. When I told you that I can't I meant that I physically can't, not that I don't want to. Kissing and the way you were touching me...it would have led to other things and I..." My heart wrenches as I know exactly what he was going to say. He was going to say that he would have been in too much pain, and he is ashamed to admit it. God, why does he have to be so goddamn stubborn? My love for him overtakes the fact that I'm still a little bit pissed off at him so I entwine my fingers with his, loving the feel of his calloused hands feel against mine. His fingers are long and beautiful, clearly a musicians hands, and the palm of his hand is rough from having used a cane for so many years but I don't care. In a bid to reassure him I tell him "I understand. I know you have bad pain days and when you do it kills me inside because I know I can't help you. I always know when you are having a bad pain day." He looks at me incredulously so I continue "your limp is more pronounced, you grip your cane tighter, your eyes seem to lose their sparkle and you try and do as little walking as possible. You also rub your thigh a lot more." From working for him I have learnt to observe people a lot more...particularly him. When we are doing differentials, when we are just bantering, we he is sat at his desk, I'm watching him. Which makes me sound like a bit of a stalker I know, but I can't help it. Somehow, even with his cane, he manages to be as graceful as a ballerina and despite being a cripple he can sometimes seem to have the agility of a cat. I want so badly to know him, to know what makes him tick. I want to know things like how he gets out of the bath and how he makes love, I want to hear him play piano and play his guitar. I summon up every ounce of courage I can muster, squeeze his hand gently and whisper "please. Let me in" as his blue eyes gaze into mine.


	5. Chapter 5

"Please. Let me in." The words and her gentle voice reverberate in my mind as I try to decide whether I could. Could I afford to let myself get hurt again? Cameron was not Stacy but was I willing to take that risk? My heart was screaming at me to say yes but my mind was giving me all the reasons why I should say no; _you are her boss, you are so much older than her, you're crippled, you have so much emotional baggage it's ridiculous..._the list of reasons went on and on. I look at her, the petite beauty who had already broken down many of my defences when I realised. I realised she was the one who would put up with me being a jerk, who didn't care about my past and who loved me unconditionally – and it scared the hell outta me. However, I told my mind to shut up, and I listened to my heart for once, a feeling which was alien to me as it was something I had not felt in a long time. Eventually my blue eyes meet her hazel ones as I whisper "O.K." She smiles softly, almost as if she knew how difficult that was for me. She tentatively lifts her free hand and caresses my cheek, the gesture seeming to say 'it's OK, we can do this'. I lean my cheek into her touch, closing my eyes as her thumb strokes my cheek. "House," she says gently and I open my eyes to look at her, "I can't let you go back. Not tonight. Your leg...stay here tonight, I'll take the couch." I nod, barely aware of how badly my leg had been hurting until now. I instinctively pull my hand away from where our fingers had been entwined and place it on my thigh. I stare down at my leg as I mumble "I...I don't want to be alone..." hoping she'll understand what I mean. I feel her hand on top of mine and as she leans forward to nuzzle my neck I know she understands. I reach up and stroke her hair as she whispers "bed?"

I slowly get to my feet, having just popped a Vicodin to take the edge off so I can walk to her bedroom without the risk of falling over. I sit on the edge of the bed as she bustles around, locking her apartment up and switching the lights out. Propping my cane against the bedside cabinet I manage to toe my trainers off, and I pop three more Vicodin in order to be able to sleep tonight before removing my jacket and jeans. I slide back slightly before physically lifting my right leg onto the bed before settling down on my back, glancing over at the beautiful woman who is sharing her bed with me. She is curled up and it seems, as far away from me as physically possible. I smirk and say "Cameron, what are you doing all the way over there? Are there more people coming to share the bed that I should be aware of?" In a small voice she replies "I just want to give you space...I'm scared of hurting you." Even in her own bed this girl is far too considerate and so, with an exaggerated sigh I lean over and grab her arm, pulling her small frame across the bed and closer to me. She lays down next to me, close but not quite touching as she sleepily murmurs "goodnight House."  
"Goodnight...Allison," I murmur back before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

I'm rudely woken by the white hot pain in my thigh, which is nothing unusual. What is unusual is the fact that I have a beautiful woman draped across me (one which is not a hooker). I forget about my leg pain for a moment and just look at her, wondering what I did in a past life to have such a beautiful woman in my arms. A sharp pain in my thigh brings me back to reality and I reach for my Vicodin only to find it is not on the bedside cabinet, only then realising I must have left it in my jacket pocket. As gently as I possibly can I move away from her, lifting my right leg out of bed as I swing my leg round to sit on the edge of the bed. I use my cane to pull my jacket to me and upon finding my Vicodin I pop two, happy in the knowledge that soon the searing pain in my thigh will be reduced to a dull throb. I'm rubbing the heel of my hand over my thigh when a sleepy voice asks me "House? Why are you up so early? Come back to bed." I look over my shoulder at the speaker and am amazed how she can look so beautiful even when she has just woken up. I wince slightly as I move back into bed and as Cameron cuddles into me she simply asks "is it still bad?" I look down at her, trying to see any hint of pity or sympathy in her eyes but there is none. I nod slightly and reply "it's always bad in the mornings, but it's a bit worse today." She nods and settles against me, her delicate body pressed against mine and I know there is nowhere else I'd rather be right now.

**A/N – sorry, I know this chapter is a little short, will make them longer in future. Reviews are always appreciated.**


	6. Chapter 6

"Please. Let me in." I knew I was taking quite possibly the biggest risk of my life by asking him this. I watched him as he was trying to decide whether I was worth the risk. I could see his mind weighing up the pros and cons, listing reasons why he couldn't be with me, all of them ridiculous, of course. However, I'm pretty sure that if my ex had done to me what Stacy did to House I would be bitter and untrusting as well. I would never tell him this but I do find myself pitying him sometimes.

When I hear him tell me "OK," I'm overcome with happiness, but at the same time I'm filled with apprehension. He has essentially just given me everything I have ever wanted from him, so why do I feel so scared about it? Am I ready to hear what I want him to tell me? In order to calm myself I caress his cheek and he leans his stubbly cheek into my touch. I tell him I can't let him go home tonight in the state that his leg is in so I offer him my bed. I watch sadly as he pulls his hand away from mine and gently rests it on his damaged thigh. My heart wrenches every time he does it, and every time my hatred towards Stacy grows, but I will never tell House this. He makes himself vulnerable by telling me he doesn't want to be alone and I have to bite back the tears as I rest my hand on top of his and, in a very bold move, lean forward and nuzzle his neck tenderly. I have to admit I'm pleasantly surprised when I feel him stroke my hair so I whisper "bed?"

I reluctantly pull away and I busy myself with switching off the lights in order to give him a little privacy when getting to his feet. I have to force myself not to go to his side when I see him limping heavily to my bedroom. I lock the door and quickly change in the bathroom, before joining him in the bedroom, getting under the covers and curling up in a foetal position. I tried to stay as close to the edge of the bed as possible in order to allow him to have most of the bed. I didn't know how he slept with his bad leg so I wanted to make sure he would be comfortable and that I wouldn't hurt him. What surprised me is when he asks me "Cameron, what are you doing all the way over there? Are there more people coming to share the bed that I should be aware of?" I could hear the smirk in his voice as he asked me. When I told him the reason I find his large, calloused hand is grabbing my wrist and before I can protest he has dragged me over to his side of the bed. I resist the urge to giggle and lay next to him, close enough to be aware of his body heat but no so close that we are touching. My heart is pounding and my mind is going crazy with the fact that the man I love is lying in bed next to me. Overwhelmed with tiredness I murmur "Goodnight House."

I'm awoken the next morning by a movement on my bed. I frowned as I tried to place what was happening then I remembered – House, in extreme pain, I told him to stay. He had his back to me and I sleepily ask him "House? Why are you up so early? Come back to bed," but no sooner are the words out of my mouth do I could see his right arm moving back and forth, his desperate attempt at easing the pain in his thigh. He moves back onto the bed and I force myself to bite back the tears as I see him wince in pain. I take a risk and cuddle into him, and as I do I find myself asking him "is it bad?" As he looks down at me I almost regret asking the question, silently berating myself for asking such an idiotic question when he replies "it's always bad in the mornings, but it's a bit worse today." I don't quite trust myself to speak so I simply nod and cuddle against him a bit more, happy in the knowledge that, for just now, there is nowhere else on earth I would rather be.

**A/N – yea, sorry about another short chapter, hopefully the next few will be longer, still not entirely sure I know where I'm going with this, so reviews/comments/ideas would be greatly appreciated **


	7. Chapter 7

**Don't own House M.D or anything so no suing please!**

Cameron is in the shower. We had lain together for a while, neither of us saying anything as we did not feel the need to. Overnight our relationship had completely changed. We had gone from employer and employee to...well, I'm not entirely sure how to categorise our relationship yet. I'm laying back against the pillows when I feel it. A spasm in my thigh. I immediately tense and I hope it passes, but it doesn't. I quickly pop some Vicodin, not really knowing how many and I lay down on the bed, clutching my thigh tightly as the spasms worsen. At this point I'm not caring about the pain. I'm more concerned about Cameron. She has not seen me have a really bad pain day and I don't particularly want her to. I hear the shower stop running and I begin to panic as I hear her pad towards the bedroom. Fake it. I would have to fake that I was ok when in reality I knew I wouldn't even be able to stand. I gingerly remove my hand from my thigh and put it behind my head, trying to look nonchalant as she enters the bedroom. She smiles at me as I gaze at her. I'm still trying to work out how I was lucky enough to get her. My train of thought is interrupted as I feel the bed dip. She is lying next to me, propped up on her elbow. I turn my head slightly to look at her and give her a slight smile. She raises an eyebrow, smirks and then rolls off the bed. I breathe a small sigh of relief as I watch her dress - she opts for yoga pants and a tank top, pulling her hair back into a messy bun. In an attempt to keep up the facade that I'm ok I ask her "not going into work today?" I raise an eyebrow at her and she smiles, shaking her head "nope, got a couple of days off, Cuddy seems to think my boss is working me into the ground." I can help but smile slightly at this. She disappears out the bedroom and I use that time to grab my thigh, desperately trying to stop it spasming but nothing helps. I hear her coming down the hall so I put my arm back under my head and close my eyes. I feel the bed dip as she sits next to me and I'm suddenly very aware of how close her body is to my damaged leg. I say nothing as she sits there for a moment, when I suddenly feel her delicate hands running down my body. I force myself to keep my eyes shut as she tenderly runs her hands over my abdomen and down my waist, stopping at the waistband of my boxers. I feel her brush her hands over my hips and I freeze when I feel her slowly pushing the leg of my boxers up. I open my eyes and look at her "don't," I tell her hoping the tone of my voice would be enough to stop her doing whatever it is she is about to do. She simply gives me a gentle smile before whispering "trust me. Please. I would never intentionally do anything to hurt you." Whether it is the tone of her voice or the fact that I know what she is saying is true I relent and close my eyes, mentally preparing myself for the sheer agony that was going to come. I flinch as I feel her brush her fingers over my scar and when she tenderly presses her fingers onto my damaged leg do I yelp in pain, grabbing my thigh with both hands as I growl at her "don't...just don't...you can't help me...leave me alone." I can feel her still sitting there so I yell at her "GET OUT!" I regret it as soon as I say it and as I feel her get up and walk out of the bedroom I try to say something to stop her from going but I can't.

I don't know how long I have lain here. I'm sweating and my body is trembling from the excruciating pain in my thigh. I have tried to limit my Vicodin intake in order to make them last. It doesn't matter how many I take anyway as they do little to take the edge off when the pain is like this. The door opens and I hear someone come towards the bed. It must be Cameron, who else would it be? She places a glass of water and a full vial of Vicodin on the bedside table as well as something else which I can't quite make out. She doesn't say anything as she rolls me onto my side. I feel something damp at the base of my spine before I feel something sharp prick my skin. Silent tears trickle down my face as I realise she has given me morphine and as the painkiller runs through my system I manage to choke out a small "thank you," before falling into a deep sleep.

"_Daddy! Daddy!" A little girl with long brown hair and striking blue eyes throws herself at me, cuddling my good leg. Cameron comes through the door and stands with her hands on her hips, frowning slightly as she says "Rose, how many times have I told you to be careful with your daddy's legs? You don't want to hurt him do you?"  
The little girl looks ashamed as she lets go of my leg "no mummy," she looks up at me and whispers "did I hurt you daddy?" I reach down and stroke her hair gently, smiling softly as I reply "no sweetheart you didn't." This seems to cheer her up and as Cameron comes towards me she says to the little girl "off you go, I think there are cartoons on." The little girl beams and skips off as Cameron comes towards me, wrapping her arms around my waist and kissing me deeply. She pulls away and as I look in her eyes I see nothing but love there. "I'm sorry about Rose Greg; she is always so excited to see her daddy. I'm just worried that one day she is going to hug the wrong leg and hurt you." I smile and kiss her back "always such a worrier..."_

I'm woken by the sound of someone coming into the room. I try to open my eyes to see who it is but I'm still drowsy from the morphine so I just lay there and think about that very weird dream I just had. Clearly the little girl in the dream was mine and Cameron's daughter, but what was Cameron's and my relationship? Married? Divorced? When I hear them leave the room I force myself to open my eyes and am more successful this time as I take in my surroundings. I'm still at Cameron's. My thigh twinges as I tentatively move myself into a sitting position on the bed. I can't help but breathe a small sigh of relief as it means the spasming has stopped. I glance at the bedside table and see the water and Vicodin there, both of which I take gratefully. My bladder is begging for relief so I gently move my bad leg out of the bed, pick up my cane and stand up, placing most of my weight on my good leg. I take a tentative step forward and am relieved when my leg doesn't give way under me. I slowly make my way to the bathroom and I relieve myself. I contemplate taking a shower before remembering I have no change of clothes. I go to the living room to try and find Cameron only she isn't there. However, what is there is my duffel bag with a note on top:  
_House, took the liberty of going to yours to get you some clothes etc  
I have had to pop out, I will be back soon  
Cameron X  
P.S there are towels in the cupboard across from the bathroom  
_I frown slightly. It must have been Cameron who woke me up by coming into the bedroom, but if that was the case why did I not hear the front door shut? I shrug it off as I look inside the bag to find not only a change of clothes but my iPod, PSP and yoyo. I take a long shower (well, as long a shower as my leg would allow) enjoying the feeling of the hot water cascading over me. As I stand under the water I contemplate the dream I had, frowning at the thought of Cameron and I having a child together. I turn the shower off and get dressed, wondering what I'am to do with myself. I glance into the bedroom and see the state the bed is in and I decide to change the sheets as they are probably covered in my sweat. I get clean bedding from the same cupboard where the towels are kept and I proceed to make the bed. I'm just putting the dirty sheets into the laundry basket when I hear her come in. I limp into the living room only she is not there so I head to the kitchen, where I find her putting groceries away. She glances at me before saying "your leg is better today." It is a statement, not a question and I'm surprised at the emotionless tone to her voice. "Well, it's as good as it's ever going to get. Still got the limp, still got the cane," I snipe back. I see her nod her head slightly before she says "I'm taking you back to yours when I'm done. Wilson is there." Her tone is still emotionless and I can't help but feel a little...I'm almost sure I'm feeling a little hurt by the way she is acting towards me. She finishes unpacking and goes through to the living room, picking up my bag and her keys and she stands by the door, waiting for me. I limp slowly past her to the bedroom to get my trainers and Vicodin, still puzzled over why she is acting so coldly towards me. We go downstairs and drive to mine in silence. As I'm getting out of the car she says in a quiet voice "see you at work." I don't reply. It is only once I have shut the door and she is driving off do I realise why she is acting so strangely – it is because I essentially told her to get out of her own home and rejected her help at a time when I may have needed it the most. I grip my cane as I climb the steps to my apartment. How the hell was I going to get myself out of this one?

**Reviews would really be appreciated! How do you think this story should go? I have a few ideas but I would like your input! **


	8. Chapter 8

I know he is in pain the minute I walk into the room. The way he is lying, his tense face and the fact that his brilliant crystal blue eyes are not sparkling like they usually are all indicate one thing – he is having a bad pain day and he doesn't want me to know about it. I climb onto the bed and lie next to him, propping myself up on my elbow as I look at him. He is so handsome. When he turns his head to look at me I can't help but smirk slightly as if to say 'who are you trying to kid'? I get off the bed and feel his eyes on me as I dress, which is both arousing and a little intimidating at the same time. When he asks if I'm going into work today I can feel my heart wrench at the pain in his voice which he is so desperately trying to disguise. In order to keep things from being awkward or tense I tell him "nope, got a couple of days off, Cuddy seems to think my boss is working me into the ground." I leave the room for a moment to gather my courage for what I'm about to do next. I go back into the bedroom and gently sit on the bed next to his damaged leg before I start slowly and gently running my hands down his body, not in a sexual way but in a way that hopefully soothes him. I reach his thigh only to find his boxers partially cover his scar so I very gently start pushing the leg of his boxers up away from it. I hear him say to me "don't" and I look at him, smiling softly as I whisper "trust me. Please. I would never intentionally do anything to hurt you." He seems to accept that but when he flinches when my fingers brush over his scar I'm very tempted just to stop and let him be, but the carer in me forces me to continue. Swallowing hard I press my fingers into his thigh and am not surprised when he yelps in pain, instinctively grabbing his thigh with both of his hands as he growls at me "don't...just don't...you can't help me...leave me alone." I know then that I have probably gone too far and as I sit there, thinking of a million different ways to apologise his next words surprise me. "GET OUT!" he yells at me. Determined not to show the anger or hurt on my face I simply stand and walk out, the tears coming thick and fast as soon as I close the bedroom door.

After crying for a while I feel the need to do something productive. I spot House's keys on the table and I decide to take a risk and go to his to get him some fresh clothes. Unsure of whether he is asleep or not I close the door silently before making my way to his. I let myself in and smile softly at the sight before my eyes. His apartment is cluttered yet so very him. I take the time to look around, admiring his many books and his extensive music collection. Still feeling the need to be productive I tidy his apartment for him, clearing away old take out boxes, doing his dishes and making his bed. After I fill his duffel bag with a change of clothes and his favourite toys I look over at the bookcase again and frown slightly, unsure of whether I should or not. Wilson once told me of a little green box House kept at the top of his bookcase for emergencies. It didn't surprise me that Wilson knew, what did surprise me was that House didn't know that Wilson knew. I contemplate it for a few more minutes before pulling the small step ladder and reaching up for the green box. I eventually find it and pull out a needle and a vial of morphine, along with a cleansing wipe before returning the box to its original place. I'm not overly happy at the thought of having to give my boss (and the man I loved) morphine but I had never seen him in so much pain so I felt I had little choice. When I was looking around his apartment I also found a vial of Vicodin so I pocketed it and drove back to mine, unsure of how I was going to find him when I got back.

As soon as I open the door to the bedroom it takes all of my self control not to go to him and wrap my arms around him. Instead I tried to remain emotionless and treat him as a patient, which I precisely what I did. I place the Vicodin and glass of water on the bedside table, along with the syringe and morphine and I wordlessly roll him onto his side. I gently disinfect the bottom of his spine before administering the morphine. As I leave I hear him quietly thank me but I don't say a word back. I can't. I don't trust myself to. I try to find a distraction and my eyes go to my treadmill. I run. And run. I don't know how long I run for but by the time I stop I feel a little sick. I go to the kitchen and as I pull a bottle of water from the fridge I remember I have to go shopping. I have a quick shower then creep as quietly as possible into my bedroom and get changed. I look over at the sleeping House and smile sadly. I leave as quietly as I came in and as House appeared to still be asleep I shut the front door quietly as well.

As I drive to the supermarket I think about what happened this morning. Witnessing him having a bad pain day first hand broke my heart. I never knew it could get that bad and I feel a twinge of guilt at being angry with him. But then I remember the tone of his voice when he yelled at me. It was filled with anger, hatred and betrayal. It was almost like...I grip the steering wheel tightly as I pull into the supermarket car park as it dawned on me. It was almost like he was thinking I was like her. And because of that thought I have never felt so angry in my entire life. As I push the trolley around the supermarket I keep going over it in my head and my anger continues to grow, to the point where I don't see where I'm going and crash my trolley into another. I quickly start to apologise when I hear a calm voice say "Cameron! It's ok, calm down, it's just a trolley," and only then do I look and see the calming brown eyes of Dr James Wilson. I practically throw my arms around his shoulders as I start to cry, mumbling into his shoulder what House did. Being the seemingly unflappable doctor that he is, he let me cry it all out on his shoulder before saying "would you mind repeating that?" I laugh and as we walk around the supermarket together I tell him everything that happened up until this morning. As we are walking back to our cars he says in his gentle voice "Cameron...I don't know if you are aware of this, but you would be the first person he willingly let touch his scar? Bad pain days can cause him to become delirious...if he thought you were Stacy trying to touch his leg, can you blame him for getting angry?"  
I consider his words before replying "I understand what you are saying Wilson but right now I can't forgive him for that. If I drop him off back at his place would you mind being there with him, even if it's just for a little while? I would feel terrible about leaving him on his own."  
Wilson nods and I smile gratefully at him. As I head towards my car I hear him say "Cameron, give him time. Please. You are good for him. And I know he likes you. Please." I can hear the pleading tone in his voice and I give him a slight nod as I put my bags in my car and drive home.

When I get in I assume he is still asleep so I go to the kitchen to put my food away when I hear his familiar uneven gait come into the kitchen. I glance at him and say "your leg is better," and I'm surprised by the lack of emotion in my voice. I keep putting the groceries away as he replies "well, it's as good as it's ever going to get. Still got the limp, still got the cane." It is at that very moment do I realise how much I hate Stacy Warner and I keep my voice emotionless as I tell him that I'm taking him back to his and that Wilson will be there waiting for him. I finish unpacking and walk past him and grab his bag and my keys. He limps slowly past me into the bedroom to grab a couple of things and I'm almost sure I could detect a hint of hurt on his face. The drive to his apartment is silent and it is only as he gets out of the car do I say to him "see you at work." I drive off, determined not to cry.


	9. Chapter 9

Two agonising days have passed. Two days, in which I have had to endure Wilson lecturing me to just apologise to her and Cameron ignoring me, and if she wasn't ignoring me, she was acting like the ice – queen of Narnia. On the third morning of her not talking to me I decide I can't take it anymore and I seek Wilson's help. My leg is still a bit worse than usual so I pop a couple of Vicodin before limping heavily to Wilson's office, bursting in and flopping down onto his couch, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration. As I look up I see Wilson is smirking and I glare at him but that just seems to make him smirk more "don't look at me like that," I bark at him. He just shakes his head and laughs "you are in deep House. Have you apologised to her yet?"  
I don't look him in the eye and I hear him sigh before saying "you are going to have to do something soon. She won't wait for you forever."  
I nod, rather dejectedly before sitting up as an idea struck me. I look at Wilson and I give him a wry smile before disappearing out of his office. I enter my office and draw the blinds and lock the doors. I want to do this in private. I scour the web for a decent local florists and I make a phone call; "I need you to send a single purple hyacinth to a Dr Allison Cameron at the Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. I want a note attached to the stalk..."  
When I'm done with my order I hang up and can't help but feel a little apprehensive. What if she doesn't understand the meaning behind the flower? I get up and start to pace, thinking it was a really bad idea. Caffeine. Yes, caffeine will calm me down. I unlock the door to the conference room and I breathe a small sigh of relief when I see that she isn't there. One more of her icy glares and she was actually going to destroy me. I pour myself some coffee when there is a knock at the glass door. I turn and see a delivery boy holding a purple hyacinth which had been beautifully wrapped in cellophane, along with some fern leaves. The note I'd asked to be included was attached to the stem and it simply said '_You never did tell me what you wish for...' _It was as close to an apology as she was going to get. I grin and take the flower off the boy, tipping him heavily before placing the flower on her desk. I'm not sure I want to be around when she gets the flower so I disappear off to coma guy's room for a while. I try to distract myself with General Hospital but it doesn't work as my mind keeps going back to Cameron, thinking of the various ways she would react to my attempt at an apology. Unfortunately, all the scenarios I come up with are bad and the more I think about it the worse they get.

I don't see Cameron for the rest of the day and when it came time for me to go home I felt...lost. I was convinced that I had blown it completely and that there was no chance for reconciliation. I spent the night getting drunk and playing my piano, just thinking about Cameron and how, thanks to the pain in my leg, I had blown it before our relationship had a chance to go anywhere.  
I went to work the next day depressed and hung-over. I go into the conference room, glance at my ducklings and my heart wrenches a little when I see Cameron. I get some coffee and without saying a word I go into my office, but not without hearing Chase say "well, that was weird. What's up with him?"  
There is silence before Cameron replies "he's in pain. Excuse me; I have clinic hours to do."  
The last thing I hear before I put my headphones in is Foreman stating "but he's _always _in pain!"  
I don't see Cameron for the rest of the morning as we don't have a case and I'm going crazy with not seeing her, which in itself was driving me crazy as I have always enjoyed solitude yet with her not near I feel lonely. I'm just about to go and badger Wilson to buy me lunch when there is a knock at the door and the same delivery boy I saw yesterday comes in. "Delivery for a Doctor House?" He looks at me nervously as I limp towards him and take the flower out of his hand. He dashes off and I sit at my desk, looking at the flower I have just received. Like mine was yesterday, it was wrapped in cellophane and had ferns to make it look more elaborate. It was the flower itself that was different. It was a white tulip and when I looked it up on the internet found out it symbolised forgiveness. The note on it simply said '_If you really want to know come to mine for eight tonight. Bring a bottle.'  
_

**A/N – what do you think? Should Cameron and House get together or should I just keep them as friends? I highly value your input!**


	10. Chapter 10

Two days. Two days have passed since he was at my apartment, in pain and yelling at me. And for some reason I can't quite bring myself to forgive him yet. I know what I'm doing to him is cruel. I know I should just forgive him because it wasn't his fault, it was the pain talking, but it still stings. So I ignore him. And if I absolutely have to converse with him I try and act as nonchalant as possible. It seems to be working.

He seems to still be in more pain than usual and when I watch him limp across the conference room I get flashbacks of him grabbing his thigh, yelling in pain and it takes all of my self control not to cry. After a particularly trying morning in the clinic I arrive back at the conference room to find something on my desk. As I walk over to look at it I discover that it is, in fact, a flower. A purple hyacinth. I smile as I twirl it around it my fingers, only just noticing the note attached to the stem as I do. I look closer and read what it says _'you never did tell me what you wish for...' _I can't help but roll my eyes and smile at that. It could only be from House and I knew it was his way of apologizing. Although people may not want to even consider it as a possibility, but House can be a total sweetheart when he wants to be. A true romantic.

I'm not sure I'm ready to face him yet so I decide to do things his way and send a reply. By sending him a flower. I open my laptop when I know he is doing clinic duty (much to his disgust) and I click on a local florists website. I send him a white tulip with the note '_If you really want to know come to mine for eight tonight. Bring a bottle.' _ I arrange for the flower to be delivered the next day. I want to make him stew a little longer.  
When he comes into the conference room the next day I suppress a smile, knowing he will be receiving a delivery later. He glances at me and I can't help but feel a little guilty when I see the look in his eyes, along with the fact he is leaning on his cane more. When he gets his coffee and goes into his office without saying a word Chase succinctly states "well, that was weird. What's up with him?" Of course, I know exactly what is 'up with him', but I manage to deflect any ideas Foreman and Chase may have by saying "he's in pain. Excuse me; I have clinic hours to do." I exit the room and smile softly, knowing he will be coming to mine tonight. My smile quickly fades when I remember the reason why he is coming to mine tonight and I beat a hasty retreat to the clinic, not wanting to think about it just now. I will figure out what I'm going to say to him later.

**A/N: apologies for the short chapter, fluff between House and Cameron to come I promise!**


	11. Chapter 11

It's quarter to eight, I'm sat in my car outside Allison's apartment and there is a bottle of wine on the seat next to me. I'm dressed in a black shirt, with a white t-shirt underneath and black jeans. I try to make the knot of nervousness in my stomach go away by swallowing a couple of Vicodin before getting out of my car and slowly making my way to her apartment. Once again, I curse her for living in a block of flats that is not cripple – friendly and I painfully climb the stairs. I stand outside her door and swallow another pill before knocking on the door with my cane.  
When she answers I'm overwhelmed by her beauty. She is wearing a simple red dress, which stops just above her knee and has three quarter length sleeves. She has no jewellery on, save for a pair of simple stud earrings and she is barefoot, her toes perfectly pedicured. She smiles shyly when she sees me "come in House," and I step across the threshold, my mind flashing back to the last time I was here and I struggle to repress the memory. I hand her the bottle of wine and she nods in appreciation, and as I look into her hazel eyes I can tell she is nervous. "Would you like a drink? Dinner should be ready in about ten minutes."  
"Yes, thank you," I follow her into the kitchen and look at the pans on the stove with interest. I accept the glass of wine and ask her "what are we having for dinner?"  
"Carbonara with garlic bread for the main and torta de mele with cream for dessert," she smiles as she stirs the pasta. "Why don't you go and sit down? I shall be through in a moment." I go into the living room and look at her vast collection of books, which range from the Brothers Grimm Fairytales to the New England Medical Journal. As I stand perusing her little library with interest she walks in with two bowls of pasta "find anything of interest?" she grins as she sets the bowls down on the coffee table. I merely smile and keep my mouth shut. She disappears and comes back with a plate of garlic bread. "Dinner is served," she says with a gentle smile that makes my heart melt.  
We sit in a comfortable silence as we eat. Cameron glances at me every so often when she thinks I'm not looking. She is so beautiful and I mentally berate myself for having pushed her away for so long. I frown again as I think back to a few days ago and as I finish my food I turn to look at her. "Cameron...about when I was round the other day...I don't really remember what happened...but I know I did something to piss you off and I - ," she stops me from talking by putting a delicate finger on my lips.  
"You don't have to explain. I understand," she smiles, but there is a sadness in her smile that makes my heart wrench. I move my head away and say "please. I have to...you have to understand..." God, why is this so difficult? I take a big gulp of wine and try again "whatever I did, I'm sorry. When I have pain days like that I...I can't even think straight. All my mind knows is that I'm in excruciating pain and there is little anyone can do about it."  
She doesn't look at me as she says quietly "you yelled at me."  
I blink "what?"  
She says it again, a little louder, but she still cannot meet my eyes. "You yelled at me. I...I was trying to help...I couldn't help but feel like..." she trails off and distracts herself by fiddling with her wine glass. I take the glass away from her and lift her chin so her hazel eyes meet my blue ones. I gently prompt her to continue "you couldn't help but feel like...?"  
Her beautiful eyes fill with tears as she whispers "Stacy. I couldn't help but feel like Stacy. I couldn't help but feel like you were pushing me away at a time when you needed me the most."  
She looks away and starts to collect our empty bowls as I sit there, slightly speechless. I quickly pop two Vicodin and limp into the kitchen after her. She is putting the dishes on the side and she looks thoroughly dejected. I lean on my cane as I say in a low voice "you are nothing like Stacy."  
She stiffens and she turns to look at me, her eyes flashing with anger "really House? So why do you insist on treating me the same way you treated her? You constantly push me away even though you are fully aware of my feelings for you."  
It feels like she has slapped me in the face and I stare at her in disbelief. Oh God, was this really what she thought of me? I'm still in a slight state of shock as she pushes past me. I realise I have to go and fix this and fast. I hobble into the living room, where she is sat on the sofa, her feet curled up underneath her. I approach the sofa but don't sit down. "Allison, please believe me when I say I'm sorry for making you feel that way. When...when I first became aware of your feelings for me I got scared...you were the first woman since Stacy to really feel, well, anything for me. And I thought that by pushing you away I was saving you. But I wasn't. And I'm sorry." My leg is hurting so I gingerly sit down on the edge of the sofa as I rest my forehead on the handle of my cane. "You are nothing like Stacy. I pushed her away because I was angry at her. By making that one decision she ruined my life, she destroyed me utterly. However, in my defence, I did not need to push her that hard, she was already pulling away. " I lean back and breathe deeply. I had never told anyone that, not even Wilson. I wasn't entirely sure why I opened myself up to her like that. I swallow some Vicodin and look over at her and I see she is crying, her tiny body shaking with sobs. I inch across to her and wrap an arm around her shoulder, letting her rest her delicate body against mine. When she eventually stops crying she says in a small voice "do you still want to know?"  
"Know what?"  
"What I wish for."  
"Yes."  
I feel her inhale a deep breath before she starts to speak; "every single day I wish I could take away your pain. I wish I had known you when you had the infarction. I wish you and I could have been together then and because of this I wish it had been me instead of Stacy who had made the decision. I wish I could make you happy. And, more than anything, I wish you could see how much I love you." She has stopped crying, but instead of tears there is a heartbreaking look of sadness and resignation in her eyes. I stare at her for a few moments before saying in a quiet voice "hypothetically speaking, if you had been there, what would you have done? Would you have gone against my wishes?"  
"I would have let you die," she replies, her voice almost a whisper. "I know you would not have wanted to live like that, and I would not have wanted to be the cause of your pain. It would have been selfish of me to keep you here, living each day in agony simply because I loved you,"  
I have to admit I'm astounded. I knew her capacity for kindness and selflessness but her answer went above and beyond that. It almost descended into martyrdom. "Why would you deliberately make yourself unhappy?" I have to know.  
"Because if you lived your life not being happy, being in pain and knowing that I was the one that caused it. I would rather live in despair knowing that you are not in pain, than live in despair knowing you are, does that make sense?"  
I nod silently, unsure of what to say. My hand moves to my mangled thigh and rubs it, trying to ease the ache in it. I look over at the beautiful woman sat next to me and I know that if I do not do something soon I may lose her for good. I move closer to her and take one of her delicate hands in mine, holding it gently. "I have a wish too you know," I smile at her. She looks up at me, her eyes regaining some of their sparkle. "What is it you wish for?" She whispers softly.  
I take a deep breath and look her in the eyes as I tell her "you."

**A/N: what do you reckon? Should Cameron be happy at his declaration or pissed at him for making her wait for so long? Reviews are awesome!**


	12. Chapter 12

He is coming over tonight and I don't think I have ever felt so nervous. It took me almost two hours to get ready because every single outfit I tried on didn't seem right and I went through every single recipe I knew in an attempt to think of something that would satisfy his palate. I eventually settle on a simple red dress that I brought on a whim and have worn twice. As for the meal, I decide to go Italian and make Carbonara for the main and an Italian apple pie for dessert. Dinner was almost ready when I heard his distinctive knock at my door. Taking a deep breath I opened the door to him and couldn't help but be slightly overwhelmed by how handsome he looked. Unable to form a coherent sentence I simply smile at him and invite him in. As he hands me the bottle of wine I'm silently grateful for the distraction and I offer him a drink. He accepts and I go into the kitchen to collect my thoughts only to be distracted once again as I hear him follow. As I hand him a glass of wine I hope he does not wish to talk just yet but luckily he asks me a simple question; "what are we having for dinner?"

Almost automatically I reply "Carbonara with garlic bread for the main and torta de mele with cream for dessert." I tell him to go and sit down, not because it was an act of a good hostess, but because of the effect his proximity was having on me. When he turns and limps to the living room I stand against the side, my heart pounding. I don't understand how one man can have such an effect on me. I dish up the pasta and walk into the living room to find him looking at my collection of books and in a light-hearted voice I ask him "find anything of interest?" before putting the bowls down on the coffee table. When he doesn't reply, but simply smiles at me I take that as my cue to go and get the garlic bread. I put it on the coffee table and tell him "dinner is served," and I smile at him, my heart racing slightly as I once again take in his appearance.  
We eat in silence and every so often I can't help but glance at him, he really is a very beautiful man. He finishes eating and turns to me; "Cameron...about when I was round the other day...I don't really remember what happened...but I know I did something to piss you off and I - ," I silence him by putting a finger over his lips. I'm not entirely sure I want to hear what he has to say so I take the coward's way out by telling him "You don't have to explain. I understand," and as I smile at him I'm acutely aware of the fact that my smile doesn't reach my eyes. He moves his head so he can talk and he tries again "please. I have to...you have to understand..." I can tell he is nervous because he takes a big drink of his wine before continuing "whatever I did, I'm sorry. When I have pain days like that I...I can't even think straight. All my mind knows is that I'm in excruciating pain and there is little anyone can do about it."  
I decide to tell him the truth, but I cannot meet his eyes as I say in a quiet, almost child – like voice "you yelled at me." The words sound juvenile and I hate myself for it. When he asks me to repeat what I said I elaborate on it, but I still cannot meet his eyes as I tell him "You yelled at me. I...I was trying to help...I couldn't help but feel like..." I look at the coffee table for a distraction and I pick up my wine glass. I don't drink from it, merely fiddle with it, the actions soothing me slightly. He takes the glass away from me and tenderly lifts my chin so my hazel eyes are forced to meet his beautiful blue ones as he says "you couldn't help but feel like...?"  
His gentle tone and his tender actions are more than I can bear and my eyes fill with tears as I whisper "Stacy. I couldn't help but feel like Stacy. I couldn't help but feel like you were pushing me away at a time when you needed me the most." Hardly believing I have just admitted that to him I busy myself by collecting our dirty crockery and taking them to the kitchen. I hear his uneven gait as he follows me, his voice low as he tells me "you are nothing like Stacy."  
At this statement I can't help but feel anger towards him so I turn to him and say in a cold voice "really House? So why do you insist on treating me the same way you treated her? You constantly push me away even though you are fully aware of my feelings for you." I push past him and curl up on the couch in the living room, unsure of what else to do. I watch him as he comes back into the living room, and stands next to the couch. I hear him talking "Allison, please believe me when I say I'm sorry for making you feel that way. When...when I first became aware of your feelings for me I got scared...you were the first woman since Stacy to really feel, well, anything for me. And I thought that by pushing you away I was saving you. But I wasn't. And I'm sorry. "You are nothing like Stacy. I pushed her away because I was angry at her. By making that one decision she ruined my life, she destroyed me utterly. However, in my defence, I did not need to push her that hard, she was already pulling away."

He is sat on the couch now and as he tells me this I start to cry, realising he has probably never told anyone else this, not even Wilson. I'm crying because I'm sad for his admission of his feelings but I'm also crying because I feel privileged that he shared them with me. I feel his arm around my shoulder and I lean into him, grateful for the comfort. When I eventually stop crying I realise I should probably tell him what he came around to know so I ask him whether he still wants to know what I wish for. When he answers in the affirmative I take a deep breath and tell him, knowing that by admitting what I have felt I risk losing him for good. So I tell him the truth: "every single day I wish I could take away your pain. I wish I had known you when you had the infarction. I wish you and I could have been together then and because of this I wish it had been me instead of Stacy who had made the decision. I wish I could make you happy. And, more than anything, I wish you could see how much I love you." When I finish speaking I look up, to find him staring at me, his beautiful blue eyes locked onto mine. His reaction surprises me. Instead of him mocking me or leaving in disgust he asks me "hypothetically speaking, if you had been there, what would you have done? Would you have gone against my wishes?"

I don't even have to think about my answer, as I already know what it is. It is something I have thought about ever since I heard him giving the med students a lecture, when I found out how Stacy had betrayed him. Not entirely trusting my voice I tell him "I would have let you die. I know you would not have wanted to live like that, and I would not have wanted to be the cause of your pain. It would have been selfish of me to keep you here, living each day in agony simply because I loved you." When he asks me why I would have subjected myself to that again I already know the answer: "Because if you lived your life not being happy, being in pain and knowing that I was the one that caused it. I would rather live in despair knowing that you are not in pain, than live in despair knowing you are, does that make sense?" I'm babbling a bit now. I want him to understand.  
When I see his hand go to his thigh it takes all of my self control not to put my hand over his. He saves me the trouble by moving closer to me and taking my hand in his own. At this gentle gesture of affection my heart starts pounding so loudly I would swear he could hear it. As he holds my hand he tells me that he also has a wish. I look up at him, surprised at his statement, as I would have thought that he would not be the type of man to have wishes. "What is it you wish for?" I ask him, my voice a whisper.  
His answer astounds me beyond comprehension as he looks me in the eyes and tells me "you."

**A/N: hope you liked it! The next chapter introduces a story arc about Cameron's past, which is an angst – filled and traumatic one (yes, yes, I'm fully aware it's already been done but I don't care) How will House react when he discovers the secret she has been keeping? DUN – DUN – DUUUUUUN! **


	13. Chapter 13

Oh dear. I have just opened myself up to her, to possible heartbreak, to my soul being destroyed. I'm not entirely sure I'll be able to cope if she says no. She stares at me, an unreadable expression on her face. The next thing I know her hand is connecting with my cheek as she slaps me. She gets up from the sofa and stands in front of me as she yells "you bastard! After all this...the games...the way you treat me at work...you expect me to forget it all and forgive you simply because you tell me you wish for me?"  
I drop my gaze as I mumble "I don't expect anything from you. Forgive me," I move to stand but find myself being pushed back down onto the couch.  
"No, stay there. We need to talk about this. I shall be back in a moment," she disappears down the hall and I remain seated, a feeling of rejection and deep depression coming over me. It's so thick I can hardly stand it. I have never felt like this before. I have to get out of here. I move to stand again and as soon as I'm on my feet I hear a voice saying "where do you think you're going?"

My head jerks up at the voice and my jaw drops as I see Cameron standing in the doorway wearing a red brocade under bust corset, a red bra which had a black lace detail over the top. On her bottom half she was wearing frilly black French knickers and black stockings. The look was completed by a pair of killer heels that were clearly not designed for walking in.  
I take in the vision before me. Every single drop of blood in my body seems to have gone to my groin and I'm incapable of coherent speech. She moves towards me and I'm more than slightly amazed by how gracefully she can walk in those heels. She stops in front of me and purrs softly "you like?"  
Still incapable of forming a sentence I merely nod and I lick my lips slightly as I lean on my cane. I eventually manage to find the ability to utter "you're beautiful'."  
She smiles and blushes and I don't think I have ever been more turned on in my entire life. She stands right in front of me and as I breathe in I can smell her perfume. "Greg," she whispers softly as she moves even closer "you know how I feel about you. And it seems, you do feel the same way even if you have taken your sweet time in admitting it. I do not want to be a quick shag, nor do I want you telling me tomorrow morning you have changed your mind. So I have a question: did you really mean what you said, or did you say it merely to get me into bed?"  
I'm slightly taken aback. Not only by Cameron's new found confidence, but also by the fact that she questioned my motives. I'm actually a little insulted so I push her away slightly and tell her "I'm appalled you have to ask me that Cameron. What kind of guy do you take me for? I know I'm an ass but I'm not that much of an ass."

She seems to crumple before my eyes. She looks me in the eye and whispers "oh House, I'm sorry. I didn't...I would never...I only...I have wanted you for so long I..." She turns away from me and heads towards the bedroom and I hear the door slam. I can't help but be marginally impressed by the fact that we have had so many problems in our relationship when our relationship hasn't even begun. I head down the hall to her room. I knock gently as I open it and I stick my head around the door "Allison?"  
She is sat on the edge of the bed. I join her and wrap my arm around her waist. "I'm sorry," she murmurs sadly. I pull her closer and whisper "I know. I'm sorry too," I smile at her. She giggles weakly and presses herself closer to me as she says "can we just start over?"  
"With you looking like that? Nooooo, sorry."

She turns her head and looks at me, a sweet smile on her face. She reaches up and touches my cheek gently as she leans in and presses her lips softly to mine. I quickly discard my cane and my shoes as I wrap both my arms around her slender waist and kiss her back. The kiss is gentle and delicate to begin with but her hands start to move down my body, caressing my back and waist. I pull away from the kiss to ask "eager are we?"

She nods and grins in a beautifully sexy and sultry manner before leaning in to kiss me again, her lips pressed so hard against mine it almost hurts. Her tongue tangles with mine as she fumbles to undo the buttons on my shirt. She pulls away from the kiss, gasping for air slightly as she pushes my shirt off before tugging at my t – shirt. I'm incredibly aroused at how aggressive she is and once my top is off I pull her to me and kiss down her jaw and neck before growling softly "lay down."  
She lays back on the bed and I take a moment to look at her. She looks like a goddess and it takes all my self control not to jump her right there and then. I quickly swallow two Vicodin before climbing onto the bed with her, positioning myself over her as I kiss down her throat. As I do I notice a scar on her neck. It is a thin white scar which would normally be hidden by her hair. I'm intrigued by it, but for fear of ruining the moment I decide not to ask her about it, instead I try to put it to the back of my mind as I kiss down her chest, my hands brushing over her breasts.  
With one arm I reach behind her and unclip her bra, throwing it across the room before I take in her small, but beautifully formed breasts. "You are beautiful," I murmur before taking one of her nipples in my mouth and sucking on it gently. She moans softly with delight and I feel her hands caress my arms. I move down a bit lower and gently take her frilly knickers and lower them slightly, teasing her. I smile when she moans with impatience. I pull them off and throw them somewhere before leaning down and running my tongue along her wet core. This elicits a groan of pleasure from her and a moan of "ooh, Greg."  
I start off gently, moving my tongue from her entrance to her clit as my hands caress her beautiful thighs. I hear her purr happily and I grin as I concentrate on her clit, sucking it into my mouth as my tongue flicks over it. As I do this I insert two fingers inside her, and I begin fucking her with my fingers. I alternate between sucking and licking her clit as I penetrate her with my fingers, her moans of pleasure spurring me on. I know she is close when she arches her back slightly and she gasps, panting "Greg...don't stop...so...so close..."  
She groans with pleasure as I feel her muscles contract around my fingers and it is so erotic I almost come right there. I pull my fingers out of her dripping wet core and move up her body. She opens her eyes and looks at me, smirking slightly as she takes one of my juice soaked fingers into her mouth and sucks it clean. She sits up slightly and kisses me deeply before pushing me onto my back, a wicked grin on her face. "Time to repay the favour," she purrs in my ear as she kisses down my body, her hands moving slowly down my chest and stomach. She undoes my jeans and pushes them down slightly before doing the same with my boxers, my member practically springing to attention as she does. She runs her hand down it a couple of times and it causes me to groan slightly. She smiles and leans down, taking all of me in her mouth at once.  
I gasp at the sensation and I relax as her tongue does amazing things to my cock. She pulls away and I involuntarily whimper slightly before realising she is kissing and licking the tip of my cock as one of her hands strokes the shaft, the other gently playing with my balls. I'm so close to blowing my load and as she takes me in her mouth again I gasp, grabbing the bedclothes in my hands as I gasp "Allison...I'm..." before I come hard in her mouth. She swallows it all and continues to stroke my cock, milking me for all I'm worth. When she is sure I'm completely spent she climbs back up the bed and lies next to me, as we try to get our breath back. She smiles at me and kisses me tenderly. We both know we will not have sex tonight.

I reach over for my Vicodin as my leg is hurting slightly. Cameron is standing next to the bed, changing into something that is better suited for sleeping in when I notice it. She has just removed her corset and is turned slightly sideways to me when I notice a mark on her flawless alabaster skin. I frown and try to move closer to see but I'm not quick enough – she has already pulled her pyjama top on. She turns and looks at me "everything ok?"  
I nod, puzzled by what that mark may have been.

**A/N: I have had a few reviews about my paragraphing, Just to let you know I have gone back and edited all the previous chapters so hopefully they now flow better Bonus points to those who find the 'Sin City' reference :P  
OOH – what is the mark that House saw? A tattoo? A birthmark? A scar?  
**


	14. Chapter 14

I'm wondering how it's possible to have so many emotions flooding through me at once. Anger, apprehension, relief, lust...the list goes on. However, my first reaction is to slap him, which is exactly what I do before yelling at him "you bastard! After all this...the games...the way you treat me at work...you expect me to forget it all and forgive you simply because you tell me you wish for me?" I'm not about to tell him I actually think it's quite sweet and romantic. He apologises and goes to leave and I panic momentarily before pushing him back down onto the couch. I can't let him leave. Not now. Not after everything we have been through the past few days. I tell him I'll be right back before disappearing down the hall into my bedroom.

I don't think I have ever gotten changed so quickly in my entire life. I pull off the red dress and throw it somewhere before changing into a black and red lacy bra and black French knickers. I spice the outfit up a bit by pulling on my under bust corset and a pair of stockings. I finish off the outfit with a pair of ridiculously high heels that I can only just walk in.  
I'm no longer angry at him. No, what I'm feeling for him now is pure and unadulterated lust. I have to have him so I take a deep breath and head back towards the living room. When I see he is standing up again, looking like he is ready to leave I feel my heart sink. However, I'm not about to let him go that easily so I move towards him, somehow managing to look graceful in these stupid shoes. I can see the effect I'm having on him but I have to hear it from his mouth so I purr, quite seductively "you like?"

I'm slightly taken aback when he tells me I'm beautiful. Even though I'm desperate to drag him into bed with me, there is something I need to know, so taking all my courage I ask him "you know how I feel about you. And it seems, you do feel the same way even if you have taken your sweet time in admitting it. I do not want to be a quick shag, nor do I want you telling me tomorrow morning you have changed your mind. So I have a question: did you really mean what you said, or did you say it merely to get me into bed?"

His reaction surprises me. I expected him to deflect the question or return it with a sarcastic comment. Instead he seems almost...hurt when he replies "I'm appalled you have to ask me that Cameron. What kind of guy do you take me for? I know I'm an ass but I'm not that much of an ass." I knew then that I had messed up and I can't help it. I start to cry. Again. God, how pathetic am I? I realise the implications of what I just asked him and I manage to utter "oh House, I'm sorry. I didn't...I would never...I only...I have wanted you for so long I..."

I can't take it anymore. I go back to the bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed, wondering how I could screw this up so badly by being so pathetically insecure and weak. I hear him come down the hall and sit next to me. I apologise to him. I can't help it. It's like a natural instinct just to apologise for everything when I'm around him. It's strange. I'm dressed like a high – end prostitute yet I'm crying in House's arms like a little girl.

"Can we just start over?" I giggle weakly as he holds me.

"With you looking like that? Nooooo, sorry."

I know what he means. We are a bit far gone now to start over. Making the first move I reach up and touch his cheek, his stubble so soft against my fingertips, before I lean up and kiss him. I wonder quickly if I have moved too fast, but my doubts soon disappear when I see him drop his cane and quickly remove his shoes. He wraps his strong arms around my waist and this time it is he who initiates the kiss. Again, it is gentle and tender, but soon that isn't enough for me, and my hands begin to roam down his back and waist. I resist the urge to giggle when he asks me "eager are we?"

I respond by kissing him again. The kiss is hard, frenzied and passionate, as I desperately try and undo his shirt. He tells me to lay down and I do so without comment, watching him as he looks at me before he begins to kiss down my body, starting at my neck. I tense very slightly, hoping to God he doesn't notice the scar on my neck, and when he doesn't mention it I breathe a sigh of relief that he didn't. The reason for the scar is one conversation I do not want to have with him.  
He kisses down my chest, stopping at my breasts to undo my bra, telling me once again how beautiful I am before he begins to suck on my nipple, which causes me to moan with delight. He pushes my knickers off and moves down the bed slightly, before using his tongue to lick me like he would an ice – cream. The things he does with his tongue amazes me. No man has ever made me feel so good by giving me oral before. As he slides his fingers inside me and continues that _thing _he does with his tongue I feel my climax building. His fingers are still inside me when I orgasm. I arch my back off the bed as I feel my walls contract against his fingers and it is quite possibly the single most erotic experience of my life.

As I lay back, trying to get my breath back he moves up the bed towards me. I take one of his juice – soaked fingers and suck it clean, before moving down the bed, telling him I'm going to "repay the favour." It doesn't surprise me that he has a large cock when I release it from the confines of his jeans and boxers. I run my hand up and down it, making him moan as I do before I lean down and take all of him in my mouth at once. He feels so good in my mouth as I lick the underside of his shaft slowly, before pulling away to kiss and lick the head. Whilst I do this, I use one of my hands to teasingly stroke his cock, the other to caress his balls before taking him all in my mouth again. It is only a few seconds before he tells me he is close to orgasm before he comes in my mouth and I swallow it happily. When I'm sure he is completely dry I climb back up the bed and collapse next to him, kissing him softly. This is enough for both of us for tonight, but now we are both fully aware of what the other is capable of.

Once we have both come down from our post – orgasmic euphoric bliss, House reaches to grab his Vicodin and I slide off the bed to find something a little more comfortable to wear to bed. I slowly undo the corset and from out of the corner of my eye I notice House moving closer to me. I quickly pull on my pyjama top, hoping against hope he didn't see anything before asking him innocently "everything ok?"

I know one day he is going to question me about the marks that scatter my body. He's going to wonder what caused them. And, if I know House like I think I do, I know he won't stop until he has the answer. Looks like I better start becoming a more convincing liar because he can't find out about my past, he just can't...

**A/N: DUN – DUN – DUUUUN! What is it that Cameron is so desperate to hide? What is she so afraid of House finding out? Ideas, comments, criticism's are all welcome **


	15. Chapter 15

Allison Cameron is an enigma to me. Every time I think I have her figured out, she throws me a curveball and it frustrates the life out of me. Like today for example. The sexy outfit she wore for me. I would never have expected her to own such things when you consider her everyday work attire. And those marks on her body. I have no doubt in my mind that they were scars. But how did she get them? And why would she want to hide them? As I lay in bed next to her I can only come up with one plausible explanation – she used to be a self harmer. Cutting her stomach is far more easily hidden than cutting her arms. The scar on her neck would indicate she once tried to kill herself. The question that quickly comes to the forefront of my mind is what could possibly have happened to her that would make her think that dying was her only option? The death of her husband perhaps? I decide to ask her about it the next morning and with that, I pull the brunette beauty closer to me as I drift off to sleep.

The opportunity to ask her about her scars came when she was washing – up the next morning before work. I was standing against the counter, simply watching her perform such a mundane task when I noticed a knife on the draining board. I hobble over and pick it up, inspecting it when Cameron says to me "be careful, that knife is really sharp. Could cause a lot of damage if you cut yourself with it," not looking at me as she finishes washing the dishes.

"You know," I say nonchalantly as I keep looking at the blade "self – harming releases endorphins into the brain that can make you forget about other pain you are feeling. It works particularly well for emotional pain as it gives the cutter some semblance of control when they have no control of their emotions." I put the blade back down and lean on my cane as I watch her reaction. She turns to me with a raised eyebrow and replies "I'm fully aware of the dynamics of self – harm House, so what exactly are you getting at?"

"I saw a scar on your abdomen last night when you were changing. I also saw the scar on your neck. Now, unless you were in an abusive relationship where the guy tried to kill you I believe you used to be a self – harmer. Perhaps right around the time your husband was dying? The scar on your neck would indicate that not long after he died you felt you couldn't go on and tried to off yourself. Only problem is you couldn't quite bring yourself to do it, so you made a cut that was bad enough to scar you for life, but not bad enough to kill you. How am I doing?"

She looks at me and if looks could kill I would have dropped dead on the spot. I could almost physically feel the daggers she was shooting me as she moved closer to me. She looks up at me and whispers in a dangerous tone "get out." The tone of her voice suggests I shouldn't argue so I just grab my jacket and keys and leave. As I slowly make my way down the stairs I can't help but be slightly perplexed by her reaction. It was not something she should be ashamed of. If anything, she should be proud of the fact that she no longer does it, as self – harming can become very addictive very quickly. I know then I must have missed something so when I get on my bike instead of driving home I turn and drive to the hospital with one thought in mind. I would look at her medical records.

I arrive at the hospital in record time and as it is still early it means I can cross the lobby without being accosted by Cuddy, Wilson or any of my other ducklings. I immediately head down to where the records are kept and quickly find both Cameron's medical and personnel file. I search through her medical file first and am surprised to find she was hospitalised five years ago with three stab wounds to her abdomen, a two inch cut to her neck and various other cuts and bruises. Frowning I pick up her personnel file and flick back to five years ago and I discover she was in a relationship with a man at that time. I put both her files back, and I find myself trembling as the pieces fall into place. She _had _been in an abusive relationship and I had basically joked about it and told her she hadn't been and I accused her of self – harming.

A jolt of pain goes through my thigh as I think about what happened that morning and I grip my cane as I quickly swallow a couple of Vicodin. I limp painfully to the elevator and head up to diagnostics, my mind still reeling from what I have just found out. The conference room is empty and I head to my office, drawing the blinds before I sit down. I painfully lift my leg to rest it on the desk as I pull my iPod out. I don't think I have ever felt so...so...guilty in my entire life. I have fucked up. And this time I don't think she will be giving me another chance...

**A/N: ooh, an angst filled chapter! I would like to thank ****house's-friends-are-mentalists for her idea's on this chapter! You rule!**


	16. Chapter 16

Gregory House never ceases to amaze me. I don't understand how he can be so acerbic and misanthropic and selfish yet at the same time, the way he touched me and held me last night he was so gentle and caring. I think about it as I stand under the shower, the memories of the night before running through my mind. I have so many questions, but I don't want to ask him for fear of sending him limping for the hills. _What does this mean for us? Does he want a relationship with me? _I'm so happy yet I'm fully aware that my happiness could be very short lived. And that makes me more unhappy than if he had just kept on ignoring his feelings.

I finish showering and quietly dress, as I don't want to wake him. In order to keep myself from staring at his sleeping form I decide to wash up the dishes I have been neglecting. I'm nearly done when I hear his familiar gait as he joins me in the kitchen. I carry on, fully aware of the fact that he is watching me. What he does next surprises me though. He picks up one of my big knives. My heart is racing and I can feel myself trembling slightly but my voice remains strangely calm as I tell him "be careful, that knife is really sharp. Could cause a lot of damage if you cut yourself with it." I can't bring myself to look at him because I know if I do he will see the fear in my eyes, so instead I finish the last of the washing up.

For some reason he begins to talk about self – harm and as I listen to him discuss the basic reasons for why people self – harm I begin to wonder what his point is so when he puts the blade back down I turn to him and ask him, stating "I'm fully aware of the dynamics of self – harm House, so what exactly are you getting at?"

My breath catches in my throat and my stomach drops to my feet when he tells me he saw scars on my body. However, when he continues and tells me he thinks that not only did I used to be a self – harmer, that I actually tried to kill myself as well. This is when my initial shock turned to anger. I'm so angry with him right now I'm practically shaking. I move closer to him and I only trust myself to say two words to him: "get out".

He leaves and I let out an anguished sob. I can't tell him the real reason for my scars. I'm so angry with myself for letting my guard down, for letting him see the marks I have desperately tried to keep hidden. I'm angry at him for jumping to conclusions about me and worst of all, I'm furious with the fact that I can't let him go. I love him so much I swear it's going to kill me one of these days. In my anger I pick up a glass from the draining board and throw it against the wall, before sliding down the cabinet to the floor as I sob. I'm vaguely aware of a pain in my hand but I ignore it as I rock back and forth, heaving great sobs coming from my chest. I don't even know why I'm crying and as soon as I realise this my tears start to subside. Oh great, now I'm going to have to go to work with red and puffy eyes. Stupid Allison.

I look down at my hand and blink when I see it is bleeding. As I lift my arm to look more closely I see that it has a piece of glass sticking out of it. Great. So, not only was I stupid enough to throw a glass across the room, I was also stupid enough to put my hand on a piece of it. My right hand no less. Great, just fucking great. I ignore the broken glass on the floor – I will clean it up tonight, right now I have to get to work. I look down at my hand and frown. How the hell am I supposed to drive to work? I call a taxi as I put my shoes on and grab my bag and I desperately try to ignore the large bats that are fluttering in my stomach at the thought of seeing House.

I arrive at the hospital and head straight for the clinic. I need to sort my hand out before I do anything else. I go into an examination room and think about who I can get to help me. Not the nurses, they gossip far too much as it is. Definitely not House, I want to delay our meeting for a bit longer. I'm not in the mood for dealing with Chase and Foreman so I page the one doctor I know I can trust.  
Wilson enters the room as I sit on the table, my left hand cradling my right. He looks at me with those big, chocolate brown eyes of his and says softly "oh Allison, what happened?"

"I had an argument with a glass and the glass won," I reply as he gently takes my hand to look at the damage.

He turns away from me to get the necessary equipment and as he does he simply says "what did he do?"

"Excuse me?"

"House...what did he do?"

"I...I never said...what makes you think he has anything to do with this?"

He turns to me and smirks slightly before sitting on a nearby stool, gently pulling my hand in order to remove the glass. "Your eyes are red and puffy, you're here later than usual and House was here before I was. You do not get eyes like yours from crying over a broken glass so I repeat: what did House do?"

I'm stunned. Like House, Wilson never ceases to amaze me. I wince when he pulls the glass out of my hand and he looks up at me apologetically. When I see that small smile on his face and the kindness in his eyes I relent and tell him everything that has happened since the last time I saw him. He listens patiently as he cleans, sutures and bandages my hand and once he is done he stays where he is as I tell him about House's accusations from this morning. As he stands to tidy up he simply asks me "well, did you?"

"No!"

"Well, you need to tell him that."

"And tell him what exactly? The truth?" I laugh bitterly as I stand up, picking up my bag with my left hand.

He turns to look at me again and in a gentle voice asks me "what is the truth Allison? What are you so desperate to hide?"

The kindness in his voice is more than I can bear and so I say quietly "I can't tell him the truth because then he'll know that everything he thinks about me is true. He seems to be under the impression that I have an almost obsessive desire to fix people, which I why I have feelings for him. To an extent he's right. I used to have a desire to fix people but not anymore. Not since the last guy I tried to fix attempted, and almost succeeded in trying to kill me. So no, I can't tell him the truth and I'm trusting you not to say anything to him. In fact, I'm begging you not to say anything. Thank you for your help Wilson." And with that, I leave a rather shell – shocked Wilson in the examination room as I head up to diagnostics and to him.

**A/N: thanks to house's – friends – are – mentalist's for her input on this chapter! Much appreciated! Review please, you know you want to!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Apologies for the delay in updating, had a slight writers block. A cookie goes to the person who can find the Buffy reference!  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, yadda – yadda – yadda **

I notice three things about Allison Cameron as she walks into the conference room. First, she is far paler than usual, which causes me to worry slightly. Second, her eyes are slightly red, like she has been crying, which causes me to worry a bit more. Third, she has a bandage on her right hand and, much as it kills me to admit it, it kills me even more knowing she is hurt. It is all I can do not to rush to her side, take her bandaged hand and kiss it tenderly. I watch sadly as she tries to make and pour the coffee with her left hand, but I can't bring myself to offer to help. However, a pressing need for caffeine does force me to move and just as she is sitting at the conference table I limp past her, gripping my cane tightly as my leg is bothering me more than usual.

I pour myself some coffee as Chase and Foreman wander in and the first thing Foreman says is "Cameron, what happened to your hand?"

Before she can answer I find myself opening my big fat mouth and answering for her "she cut herself. Whether it was accidental or deliberate I have yet to work out."

From the corner of my eye I see Cameron's mouth drop open. Foreman and Chase are just staring at me in disgust. I bite back another sarcastic comment and instead turn to the two males in the room and tell them "clinic. Now."

They both glare at me as I turn back to Cameron and, for reasons I can't fathom, I very cruelly tell her she has charting to do, knowing full well she is right handed and so won't be able to write properly. I'm such an ass. Why am I punishing _her _for _my _mistake? I don't wait for her to reply and I simply go back to my office, draw the blinds and lock all three doors. I cannot be dealing with people today. I wince as I lower myself into my yellow chair, before gingerly lifting my leg to rest it on the footstool. _Dammit, why is my leg hurting so much today?_ I ponder as I pop a couple of Vicodin. Wilson would tell me it's psychological – my leg hurts because I feel bad about hurting Cameron. What a load of bull.

As I sit in my chair I ponder this morning's events and I eventually come to a realisation. Not only am I the king of cretins but I'm going to have to do something huge to make this up to Cameron. Normally I would go and see Wilson about this kind of thing but I know that recently Wilson and Cameron have started to become rather chummy, a thought which makes me feel slightly...oh God...no...it makes me feel slightly...jealous of Wilson. For heaven's sake! What has she done to me?! Emotions that I have kept hidden behind very high walls are starting to escape and I'm not entirely sure I like it. Particularly the ones that involve me thinking about someone else. Emotions such as concern. I'm concerned about Cameron.

I desperately try to push any unwanted emotions to the back of my mind as I move from my yellow chair to my desk, my thigh protesting every movement. I quickly swallow my Vicodin as I rub my hand against my thigh, silently willing the pain to go away but knowing full well it won't. I consider the various ways I can make it up to Cameron, none of them seeming good enough. I know that I could buy her the world and it still won't make up for how much of an ass I have been to her this morning.

As I sit at my desk a thought comes to me and I immediately turn to my computer to make the necessary reservations. I know a weekend at a spa is barely going to put a dent in the amount of apologising I need to do but hopefully it's a start. When I have made and paid for the reservations I push myself to my feet using my cane, before grabbing my helmet, jacket and bag. I have things to do and no – one is going to stop me. At least, that's what I hoped, until I drew back the blinds to unlock my office door to see Cuddy standing there, looking very pissed off. Before she has a chance to say anything I limp past her saying "I'm taking a personal day for the rest of the day. No case. I'm not needed here."

She follows me, her high heels _click – clacking _on the ground as she rushes in front of me to stop me. "You can't just take a personal day House! I need you in the clinic!"

I stop and hang my head slightly, leaning heavily on my cane as I reply in a quiet voice "Cuddy, my leg is killing me, I have things I need to do and my clinic hours can wait. I need to take a personal day." Despite my irritation at her, my voice is strangely calm. I don't give her a chance to reply as I turn from her and limp to the elevator.

I make it out to my bike without being accosted by anyone and as I drive away from the hospital I resist the urge to put my foot on the accelerator and drive far away. I settle for driving slightly over the speed limit and I eventually arrive at my destination – the most expensive florist's in Princeton. I grimace as I get off my bike, partly because of the pain in my thigh and partly because I can't help but think how clichéd this is. I take a deep breath, before limping slowly into the florist's, the buzzer that sounded as I opened the door signalling my arrival...

**A/N: ooh, cliff-hanger!Aren't I cruel? Muhahahahaha, deal with it! Mucho thanks to house's – friends – are – mentalist's for not only being my muse but just simply being an awesome person to talk to! Review, you know you wanna! ^_^**


	18. Chapter 18

I can feel his eyes on me as soon as I enter the room. Those beautiful blue eyes that make me feel as if he is looking into my...oh stop it Allison! God, I'm supposed to be pissed off at him and yet all it takes is one glance into those blue eyes and I melt. Like I'm ever going to tell him that though. I have a desperate need for coffee and am glad to see no – one else has attempted to make any. I go over and start to make a pot, my injured hand protesting every movement. I can't help but hope that House would offer to help but I know that he won't. I successfully make the coffee and pour myself a cup.

As I sit down House limps past me to get his own coffee and I notice he is gripping his cane tighter than usual and it takes all my self control not to ask him if he is ok. Instead I focus on my coffee cup and am glad when Chase and Foreman come in. Foreman notices my bandaged hand and asks what happened but before I can answer House tells them "she cut herself. Whether it was accidental or deliberate I have yet to work out."

My jaw drops. I can't believe he has just implied that I'm a self – harmer to my colleagues! Upon reflection, however, I do realise it is my own fault. If I had just told him the truth in the first place none of this would have happened. But on the other hand I'm not exactly sure I want to tell him what happened. It would only confirm what he said about my need to fix damaged people and I'm not sure I could cope with that.

He tells Foreman and Chase to go down to the clinic before turning to me and telling me I have charting to do. It doesn't bother me as I'm ambidextrous, so I have no need to write with my right hand. I watch as he disappears into his office and draws the blinds. I hear him lock himself in and I wonder why he feels the need to block everyone out.

I get on with the charting and I'm a little surprised when House emerges from his office a little while later, evidently on his way home. Cuddy is waiting for him outside his office and accosts him in the hallway, clearly nagging him to get his clinic hours done. I hope he doesn't notice me as I try to listen to the conversation. I only manage to catch House telling Cuddy "my leg is killing me, I have things I need to do and my clinic hours can wait. I need to take a personal day," before he limps off. I frown, wondering what on earth House could possibly need to do.

**A/N: apologies for the short chapter, fluff to ensue I promise! Please review!**


	19. Chapter 19

I have never entered a florists in my life so now I'm here I have no idea what to do. A woman behind the counter asks if I need some assistance and for once I readily accept it. I am in that damn florists for what seems like forever, trying to find something perfect for Cameron. I glance around when I spot it. A light brown teddy bear with a dark blue bow around its neck, its arms and legs stuck straight out in front of it. I turn to the woman who is helping me and I ask her "would it be possible to have that bear" I point at it with my cane "holding the vase?"

She blinks and smiles as she nods her head "I don't see why not." She picks up the bear and starts to arrange the vase and flowers. The end result is breathtaking. The crystal vase is filled with orchids, lilies, roses, asters, carnations, tulips and baby's breath. I smile softly at the beautiful arrangement as the woman asks me "what would you like the card to say?"

It takes me a while to come up with something. I have so much I want to say to Cameron. I ask the woman to write it for me, as I know Cameron will recognise my handwriting and after much deliberation, this is what I come up with:  
_Cameron,  
I cannot gather the courage to face you after hurting you  
So I hope that you will accept this and forgive me  
P.S, there is a reservation for two under your name at the Priory Bay Spa for this weekend  
P.P.S, the bear is called Hugh and he is all the way from England_

I ask that the flowers get delivered to the hospital and with that I go home and wait, hoping that she will accept my apology.

Once I get home I find I can't settle. I try watching General Hospital but I can't concentrate on the characters and their over – dramatised lives. I try playing the piano but my thoughts keep drifting back to Cameron and the look on her face when she walked into the conference room. She looked so hurt, and not just from the wound on her hand and I feel a deep sense of remorse. I also can't help but feel that the flowers and teddy I sent her, along with the spa trip just don't cut it with the amount of apologising I need to do. Then another thought struck me. The fact that I am going out of my way to apologise. I _never _did that for Stacey when we fought. Somehow, Cameron has managed to make me into an emotional wreck and try as I might I can't quite rebuild the walls again.

I wait for her to come around. She must have received the flowers by now and I sit, anxiously looking at the clock. It gets to seven and I open a new bottle of scotch, pouring myself a generous amount before settling back on the couch with the glass and the bottle in front of me. When the clock strikes nine I resign myself to the fact that if she was going to come over she would have done by now. I swallow two Vicodin and chase them down with scotch straight from the bottle. I slowly fall into an alcohol and drug induced sleep.

"_Greg, come and sit down, I have something I need to tell you." Cameron is sat with a sad look on her face as I limp over and join her on the couch._

"_What is it?"_

_She takes my hand but doesn't look me in the eye as she tells me "Greg, I'm dying."_

_I stare at her in shock "what? No, you can't be..."_

"_I am. It's cancer Greg, I have been to see James and he's confirmed it."_

_I shake my head "no, no. I want a second opinion."_

"_Greg, James was the second opinion. He's the best, you and I both know that. He doesn't mess up..."_

I awake in a cold sweat, breathing hard. It was just a dream. So why am I so affected by it? I feel a dampness on my cheeks and I know it isn't sweat. I pray to a God that I don't believe in that what I just dreamt was not an omen of my future. The thought of losing her...I feel a pain in my chest and I know it isn't heartburn. I have fallen for Allison Cameron. And I have fallen hard.

**A/N: review please, you know you want to!**


	20. Chapter 20

Five o'clock couldn't come fast enough. I'm tired and my hand hurts and all I want to do is go home and curl up in bed. As I walk past the clinic I hear someone calling me "Dr Cameron! Dr Cameron!" I turn around and find a nurse rushing up to me.

"You have a delivery."

I blink "I do?"

The nurse nods enthusiastically "you have to come see!"

She practically drags me to the desk and it is only then do I notice it. Quite possibly the biggest bunch of flowers I have ever seen, all beautifully arranged in a crystal vase, the vase being held by a teddy bear. I have an idea who they are from but it is only once I read the card are my suspicions confirmed. My eyes fill with tears as I read the card and I notice the nurse who came to find me is looking at me, clearly concerned.

"Dr Cameron? Are you ok?"

I nod and blink back the tears. I read the card again and a wicked thought comes to my mind "I'm fine, I just wasn't expecting such an elaborate gift. Would you mind looking after these for me for a few minutes? I need to go and see Dr Wilson."

I grin slightly as I leave the shell shocked nurse standing at the desk. By tomorrow it will be all around the hospital that I received the flowers from Dr Wilson. I know it's cruel but I want House to feel some of the pain that I have over the past 18 months. I head to Wilson's office and knock on the door.

"Come in, oh hello Allison, what can I do you for?"

I enter his office and sit on the seat opposite him "House sent me flowers. With a teddy bear. And a note telling me he's sorry and that I have a reservation at a spa for this weekend."

Wilson stared at me "are...are you sure it's from House?"

I nod "what the note said...it was so very House. What do I do?"

"Take him to the spa. He obviously wants you to ask him."

I shake my head "I can't..."

Wilson looks at me and frowns slightly "you know as well as I do that House has been in more pain than usual just lately. Going to a spa would be good for him."

"Don't guilt trip me Wilson!"

"I'm sorry Allison, I didn't mean to, but you know I'm right."

"I do. But please understand, House has hurt me so much. Especially when Stacey came back. I want him to know some of that pain. I want to make him jealous. I _have_ forgiven him for what he said this morning. But I just want to make him jealous, make him want me, do you understand?"

Wilson nods "maybe if you do this, it will show him that he can't keep playing around with your emotions."

"Wilson, I would like you to come with me to the spa."

I had unfortunately chosen the wrong moment to tell him this, as he was sipping a cup of coffee at the time. He choked on his drink and some of it dribbled out of his nose "me?!" he coughs.

"I want to make House jealous, who else but his best friend?"

Wilson stares at me before nodding, looking slightly guilty as he does. "Wilson, don't think of this as conspiring against House. Think of it as two work colleagues spending time together outside of work as friends, ok?"

Wilson nods, and I smile before leaving. I go back to the front desk and pick up my present from House. As I wait for a cab I can't help but feel slightly guilty about what I'm planning to do but I know that in the end it'll be worth it.

**A/N: is Cameron cruel? Or is her reasoning justified? Review and let me know!**


	21. Chapter 21

I limp heavily into work. After the nightmare I had about Cameron last night I didn't really get back to sleep. I slept on the couch, drifting on and off for the rest of the night. Now, because of that, my leg is killing me and I'm not in the best of moods. So, you can imagine how I felt when, as I passed the nurse's station, I overhear "Dr Wilson sent Dr Cameron flowers! Did you see them? They were beautiful!"

I stop dead in my tracks and try to ignore the pang of hurt I feel radiating through me. I swallow hard and head up to my office, not knowing what to think. Cameron, of course, is already there, looking beautiful as always. I shake my head and desperately try to ignore the flood of emotions that I'm feeling. I push open the door to the conference room and instead of waiting for Cameron to hand me my coffee I head straight to my office and draw the blinds. I hear Foreman say "well, he's happy today."

I sit at my desk and wince as I gingerly lift my leg to rest it on the top of the desk. I pop two Vicodin as I desperately rub my thigh, biting my bottom lip as I do. There is a tentative knock at the door and I know it's Cameron. I don't answer and she enters anyway, bearing a mug of coffee. She smiles lightly at me as she sets the mug on my desk. I can't help but feel that pang of jealousy again so I say, rather bitterly, "so, I heard you got flowers from _Dr Wilson. _I'm sure you are more than aware of his track record when it comes to women. I hope you know what you are doing."

She stares at me, and I see guilt flicker across her face "since when do you care what I do Dr House? I'm sure if things go wrong with James I can just go home and slit my wrists, can't I?"

She turns and storms out of the room and I just sit there, shell – shocked. I sigh, realising she obviously hasn't forgiven me and that there is no way in hell is she going to ask me to go to the spa with her. Yes, yes, I admit it. I made the reservations at the spa with the hopes that she would ask me to go with her. A weekend at a spa would do wonders for my thigh but apparently she is going to take someone else now, one of her girlfriends probably.

I decide to go and annoy Wilson to try and get all thoughts of Cameron out of my head. I limp down the hall to his office and barge in, lowering myself onto his couch. He doesn't even look up as he says "Hello House, what do you want?"

I say nothing as I lie on his couch, thinking about Cameron. He sighs and puts down his pen before looking up at me "is something bothering you?"

"Yes, I guess you could say that. Why is everyone in this hospital under the impression that the flowers I sent Cameron yesterday are actually from _you?_"

He actually has the decency to look guilty and I can't help but smile triumphantly "I knew it! One of the nurses who gave Cameron the flowers obviously got the wrong idea. But you Jimmy, you have done nothing to quell those rumours!"

He doesn't say anything; he just simply looks at me, his expression unreadable. All of a sudden, instead of feeling jealous, I feel an overwhelming sadness wash over me and I push myself to my feet. I stand with my back to Wilson as I murmur "be good to her Jimmy, don't mess this one up," before I limp slowly out the door, pulling it closed behind me.  
I go back to my office, where I remain for the rest of the day, engaging in my regular activities of watching General Hospital, playing on my Game boy and listening to my iPod. Unfortunately, nothing I do can quell the thoughts of Wilson and Cameron that keep running through my head. I eventually give up and decide to head to the nearest bar with the hopes of drowning my sorrows.

It's raining as I leave the hospital and I can't help but think _typical. This could be out of a film. The guy feels like crap and it begins to rain. _I get on my bike and start it up, quickly driving out of the hospital parking lot. I think about which bar I'm going to head to when I take a corner too quickly, the tyres of my bike skidding on the wet road. I brace myself for the inevitable impact but nothing could prepare me for the agonising pain I feel in my left knee and wrist as I skid across the road. The last thing I recall thinking is _Cameron..._ before the darkness engulfs me and I slip into unconsciousness.

**A/N: so sorry it's taken a while to get this updated, will try and get the next chapter updated asap, review – you know you wanna!**


	22. Chapter 22

God, I thought this day would never end. I haven't been able to rid myself of this nagging feeling of guilt that has settled in my stomach and more than once I have had to stop myself from going to Wilson's office to call the whole thing off. I know it sounds cruel but I _want _House to be jealous. I _want _him to know even a small amount of the pain he has caused me.

I pop into Wilson's office before I leave for the day. "Hey Wilson, just checking we are still on for this weekend?"

He looks up at me and smiles weakly "sure Allison. But I..."

I enter his office and sit down "but you what?"

He sighs and rubs the back of his neck "but I feel really guilty about this. You didn't see the look on his face earlier. He even said to me, and I quote, 'be good to her Jimmy, don't mess this one up.' House almost never calls me Jimmy. He had this look in his eyes of complete and utter defeat. You do know you are the first woman who has come close to breaking down his barriers? Who he has even shown a remote interest in? And now because of this ridiculous plan to try and make him jealous he has become even more depressed than usual. Even after Stacey left him after the infarction I've never seen him look so..."

He pauses, clearly trying to think of the right word, so I press him slightly "never seen him look so...?"

"Heartbroken," he whispers.

There it is again. That feeling of guilt. I realise I can't do this to him, I can't hurt him like this. I look at Wilson and tell him "I'm sorry James, I've just realised I can't go with you to the spa this weekend, there is someone else who I need to take with me."

He beams at me and replies "go get him tiger."

I rush out of his office and into the conference room, quickly grabbing my things before rushing to the elevator. I need to see him, I need to explain. What the hell was I thinking?! That wasn't me. It was like Invasion of the Body Snatchers and I had been replaced. I don't want House to be in pain. He suffers enough pain as it is on a daily basis. The lift stops and I rush out, barely noticing the gurney that is being pushed past me, but I do overhear what the EMT's are telling the nurses "male, 47, came off his motorcycle..." and a horrible feeling envelopes me.

I can't shake the feeling so I calmly walk towards the ER, praying to a God I don't believe in that it isn't House. I push through the swinging doors and quickly locate the injured man. They are transferring him from the gurney to the uncomfortable hospital bed and that's when I see it. His jacket. His leather jacket and I freeze momentarily. Time seems to stop and it's all I can do to remain on my feet. I go to walk closer to the bed when one of the nurses stops me "Dr Cameron, you are not supposed to be down here."

In a voice that is not quite my own I manage to utter "that...that patient...it's Dr House."

The nurse stares at me "are you sure?"

I nod, unable to take my eyes off his unmoving body "I'm sure."

"Does Dr Cuddy know?"

"No, I will go and inform her immediately." And with that, I turn and walk out of the ER, away from him, and towards Cuddy's office.

She is still there, although it looks like she is about ready to leave. I knock and enter her office. She looks up at me and smiles "Dr Cameron, what has House done this time?"

She must have noticed the look on my face because her face falls and she asks in a more serious tone "Dr Cameron? What's wrong?"

I simply manage to say "I suggest you page Dr Wilson."

All colour seems to drain from her face and she nods, quickly paging him. He arrives in record time, panting slightly as he enters her office. "Cuddy? Cameron? What's going on?"

In a small voice I reply "James, House is in the ER. I believe he was in an accident. I don't know what his injuries are nor what condition he is in." My voice is flat, monotone as I tell him this. I can't even find the strength to look at him right now and I sink down into one of the couches.

"I'm going to see him. I need to know what's happened to him," Wilson breaks through the silence.

I go to stand when Wilson looks at me and says "no, you stay here. I think you have done enough already."

I sink back into the chair as Wilson leaves and Cuddy looks at me, her eyes questioning. I stare at the floor as I tell her everything that has happened over the past week. She says nothing. She just comes and sits next to me, taking hold of one of my hands as she murmurs softly "it is not your fault Allison. You know how fast House drives. It's raining. High speeds and wet roads do not often make for a very good outcome."

I sigh, knowing she is probably right, but I still can't rid myself of the guilt that is happily munching on my insides as we speak. I need to see House but based on the look that Wilson gave me, I don't think my presence there would be appreciated and so I wait in Cuddy's office, pacing the floor as I wait for Wilson to return with news of House's injuries.

I think about what Wilson said as I wait for him to come back. The idea of House being heartbroken seems ludicrous. But then again, if I'm the first woman to get close to him since Stacey...I sit down and start to cry, the realisation of what I've done dawning on me and I feel like the worst person in the world. My crying seems to startle Cuddy who comes and sits next to me, awkwardly wrapping an arm around my shoulders as she murmurs "ssh, it's ok Allison, House will be fine."

"It's not that," I manage to get out between sobs "I'm such a terrible person. How could I do that to him? What was I thinking?!"

At that moment Wilson comes back into the room and Cuddy looks up at him expectantly "well? Is he going to be ok?"

Wilson nods "dislocated left knee, broken left wrist, abrasions and bruises. No concussion and no major injuries. He was very lucky." He looks at me pointedly as he says the last line. He continues "they are moving him up to a private room and are going to keep him in for a couple of days, simply for observation."

I stand up and mutter something about needing to use the ladies room and I head for the door. Both Cuddy and Wilson clearly know that I was lying and was on my way to see House but neither made any move to stop me. I had to see him. Even if he didn't want to see me.

**A/N: ok, I was thinking of doing a one – off chapter that is purely Wilson's POV, what do people think? Review and let me know!**


	23. Chapter 23

"_Dammit Greg, we are not having this conversation again!" _

"_Yes, we are Allison! I refuse to walk down the aisle with a fucking cane in my hand!"_

_She sighs, exasperated, trying to calm her voice as she reasons with me "Greg, darling, I understand why you don't want to, but I don't think your leg will cope with the strain of standing for so long without some form of support," her voice almost pleading now._

"_No, I know what it is. You don't want me to do it. You like me being a sick puppy. I'll prove to you I don't need this," I reply cruelly as I throw my cane to one side. I brace myself before putting weight on my bad leg and try and take a step forward. It doesn't work and my leg crumples beneath me. I feel Allison at my side and I desperately try and blink the tears away that are forming in my eyes._

"_Greg," she says gently as she puts a hand on my arm "let it go. How many times do I have to tell you I don't care about your damned cane? It's part of you and I love it as much as I love the rest of you."_

I awake with a start, wincing as I jolt my body. I blink and look down, marginally surprised to see my left knee in a brace and my left wrist casted up and in a sling. Then I remember how I came to be in this state and I sigh sadly at the thought of Cameron and Wilson being together. I screwed up massively and now I know there is little to no chance for Allison and I.

I hear a sad sniffling sound and I turn my head slightly, and am both surprised and pleased when I notice the familiar brunette locks of a certain immunologist. She has her head in her hands and it is obvious she is crying, the sound of which breaks my heart. She obviously doesn't know I'm awake so I lie there and watch her, not wanting to say anything for fear of sending her running. She begins to talk softly through her tears "Greg...I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I'm not with Wilson, I did it to make you jealous, to hurt you, like the many times you hurt me. I wanted you to have some semblance of how I felt when Stacey came back. How it broke my heart every time you looked at her. I wanted you to know what it felt like. But when Wilson told me you went to see him and when he told me what you said I realised what I was doing to you was wrong. I don't want to hurt you and I don't know why I thought I did. I'm sorry Greg, for everything..."

She dissolved into silent sobs and I couldn't help but feel elated – it was all a ruse to make me jealous! But it didn't make me jealous. It made me sad. It made me realise how much I messed up and how close I was to losing something I never even had. I open my mouth and say to her "I forgive you...Allison."

Her head sprung up at the sound of my voice and she looks at me for a moment before practically pouncing on me, causing me to wince. She gasps and pulls back "oh God! I'm so sorry, did I hurt you? Are you ok?" She looks at me with those big Bambi eyes of hers and I smile softly, lifting my good arm to stroke her hair, before pulling her back to me, cuddling her close.

"It's fine," I whisper into her hair "and I need to apologise as well, for what I said to you that morning I..."

She presses a finger to my lips to stop me from talking and she smiles softly at me "I know. It's ok." She kisses my cheek and it takes all my willpower not to move my head and capture her beautiful lips against mine.

I ask her to lower the bar on the bed that is separating us and she happily does so, before sliding herself onto the bed next to me, seeming to have an almost acute awareness of where to put her legs so she doesn't hurt me. I wrap my arm around her and pull her close, content to have her near me. She gently runs a hand over the brace on my leg before murmuring tentatively "you are going to have to be in a wheelchair for a few days."

At this I immediately tense, post infarction memories coming flooding back to me and I shake my head "no."

She obviously feels me tense and she sits up and looks at me "House...Greg...it will only be for a few days, then you can get around using a crutch. You _know_ you can't put weight on a dislocated knee for at least 24 hours. It won't be forever Greg." And as I look into her beautiful hazel eyes I know she is right so I give the slightest of nods and she smiles softly before settling down against me once again, her fingers trailing lightly over my damaged thigh.

I feel my mouth quirk upwards in a slight smile, her gentle touch soothing me and I find myself drifting off to sleep but before I do I hope that I do not have any more bad dreams about myself and Allison's potential future.

**A/N: cookies to those who can name the House episodes I am referring to in the dream sequence at the beginning! Could you pwetty pwease review? For me? Thankies muchly!  
P. S reviews make me wanna update faster...just so you know ;P**


	24. Chapter 24

I stand outside his room, watching him as he sleeps. Judging by the look on his face he is having a bad dream. I quietly enter the room and sit on the chair next to his bed. I keep watching him, the guilt I'm feeling almost making me feel nauseous. I put my head in my hands and start to cry, trying to keep my sobs to a minimum in order not to wake the man lying on the bed next to me. I can't help it. The tears are a combination of the extreme amount of guilt I'm feeling along with the fact that the man I love is yet again lying in a hospital bed.

I decide to confess. Although, it could be debated whether confess is the right word when the person you are telling is unconscious...anyway...I can't bring myself to look at him as I begin to tell him "Greg...I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I'm not with Wilson, I did it to make you jealous, to hurt you, like the many times you hurt me. I wanted you to have some semblance of how I felt when Stacey came back. How it broke my heart every time you looked at her. I wanted you to know what it felt like. But when Wilson told me you went to see him and when he told me what you said I realised what I was doing to you was wrong. I don't want to hurt you and I don't know why I thought I did. I'm sorry Greg, for everything..."

I start to sob quietly again, but I'm startled when I hear a familiar voice say "I forgive you...Allison." The use of my first name gives me a strange but happy feeling and, upon seeing him awake and talking I can't help myself. I forget about his injuries and pretty much hurl myself at him, burying my head in his chest. I feel him wince and I instantly pull back, quickly realising my faux pas as I say "oh God! I'm so sorry, did I hurt you? Are you ok?"

He doesn't reply, he simply gives me one of his soft smiles and lifts his right arm and strokes my hair and I almost moan with pleasure before he wraps his arm around me and pulls me close to him. I breathe in his scent as he whispers "It's fine and I need to apologise as well, for what I said to you that morning I..."

I stop him from saying anymore by placing my index finger to his lips. I know he is sorry and I tell him so. I want so badly to kiss his lips but I settle for placing a gentle kiss to his stubble – covered cheek. He gives me an unusual request. He asks me to lower the bar that is on the bed, separating us. I realise what he wants and I lower the bar before carefully sliding myself onto the bed next to him. I'm very aware of not only his damaged thigh, but also his newly acquired injuries and I position myself in a way which won't hurt him. He wraps his arm around me and I gently run my hand over the brace that is keeping his knee in place. Another twinge of guilt passes through me as I gently tell him something I know he won't want to hear: "you are going to have to be in a wheelchair for a few days."

I immediately feel him tense at the mention of the word 'wheelchair' and I quickly realise why. He is clearly thinking of what life was like for him after his infarction, when he couldn't walk at all, so it doesn't surprise me when he says "no."

I know I have to reassure somehow so I sit up and look at him, gazing into his beautiful blue eyes as I tell him "House...Greg...it will only be for a few days, then you can get around using a crutch. You _know_ you can't put weight on a dislocated knee for at least 24 hours. It won't be forever Greg." I try to appeal to the doctor in him, as well as calling him his first name to let him know I'm talking to him on a personal level, rather than as a patient. He looks at me for a moment before nodding and I smile before cuddling back against him, my hand instinctively trailing gently over his mangled thigh.

I see him drifting back off to sleep and I continue my gentle touch on his leg, hoping it'll soothe him, as he seems reluctant to fall asleep. I wonder what could possibly be going through his mind that would want to prevent him from sleeping but I decide to leave it for today. He has been through enough as it is.

**A/N: like? Dislike? I'm still debating over whether to do a chapter that is from Wilson's POV, so read, review and let me know what you want! **


	25. Chapter 25

I'm being discharged today but all I can think of is the fact that I'm going to be spending the next few days in a wheelchair. A fucking wheelchair. I can't rid myself of the memories of what my life was like after my infarction when I had to use a wheelchair then. How dependent upon other people it made me. How fucking _helpless _it made me. The pitying looks I got from people at the hospital. If it wasn't for the fact that Wilson is currently in my room and Cameron is coming with the wheelchair I'd pick up my cane and limp out of there, consequences be damned as long as it meant I retained a small part of my dignity.

Cameron arrives with one of those self – push wheelchairs and I can hardly bear to look at it. I sit on the edge of the bed and go to move myself when Cameron asks me "what do you think you are doing?"

I look at her and reply "it seems I'm getting out of here Cameron."

She rolls her eyes and says "I meant, why are you trying to get into the wheelchair yourself? Would it kill you to accept help for once in your fucking life?!"

The look she gives me could melt an iceberg and I feel a slight surge of anger inside me and as I look at that fucking wheelchair I can't help it, I explode at her "I HAVE TO ACCEPT HELP EVERY FUCKING DAY OF MY LIFE CAMERON! I HAVE TO USE A FUCKING CANE TO 'HELP' ME WALK! PEOPLE HOLDING DOORS OPEN FOR THE POOR FUCKING CRIPPLE! HAVING TO HAVE SOMEONE CARRY MY BAGS FROM THE STORE BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE TWO FREE HANDS! SO EXCUSE ME IF I WANT TO MAINTAIN A LITTLE FUCKING DIGNITY!"

I slump down slightly, having voiced these things verbally I realise how much my injury really has hindered my day to day life. I glance up at Cameron and I see shock, but I'm surprised to find I don't see pity or concern, just...sadness. It doesn't surprise me when she leaves the room, leaving me alone with Wilson. I look up at him and give him the slightest hint of a nod and without saying a word he comes round and helps me into that godforsaken wheelchair.

We leave the hospital and I close my eyes, trying to ignore the looks of pity I received from various members of staff. He wheels me to his car and gingerly lifts me into the passenger seat before pulling the seatbelt across me. He stows the wheelchair in the back and climbs into the driver's seat. As we make our way back to my apartment he seems to know that there is nothing he can say at the moment that will make me feel better, so he says nothing. He is clearly also remembering what life was like for me after the infarction and he wisely decides not to mention it. We get to my apartment and he helps me inside. I don't want to stay in this goddamned thing any longer than I actually have to, but at the same time, my pride won't let me ask Wilson for help. Eventually my desire to be out of the fucking wheelchair overtakes my pride and I mumble "can you help me to the couch?"

Wilson looks at me, his eyebrows raised "what did you say?"

I rub my thigh before fumbling in my shirt pocket for a familiar orange vial, flicking the top off and popping two. I sigh as I put it back in my pocket and I reply "don't make me say it again."

He nods, knowing how hard this is for me, so he comes over and helps me onto the couch. He is busy arranging things I might need around me when there is a knock at the door. Wilson goes to answer it and when he does the tantalizing smell of Chinese food invades my nostrils. After three days of hospital food it smells like heaven. Whoever is at the door quietly enters the room and that's when I notice another smell. Something very subtle but it's there. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose as I ask "why are you here?"

Wilson took that as his cue to leave. He placed a hand on my shoulder and gave Cameron a brief hug before leaving. I still can't bring myself to look at her so I ask her again "why are you here?"

She doesn't reply, but puts the food on the table in front of the couch and begins to dish out the food, wordlessly handing it to me. I look at my casted wrist and sigh in frustration. Cameron looks over at me before putting her own food down and sitting on the edge of the table in front of me. She takes the carton and the chopsticks from me before looking at me. I suddenly realise what she is going to do and I give her the slightest of nods. She seems to breathe a small smile of relief and gently begins to feed me chow mein.

After we finish eating we sit silently for a while before she says, in a voice so quiet I almost I don't hear it, "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I never...I never thought of it like that. I never thought about how much help you have to accept on a daily basis, whether you want it or not. Please forgive me."

She goes to leave but I grab her wrist and murmur "stay," I look away as I mumble softly "my thigh...it hurts..." I trail off, hoping she understands.

She gives me a tiny smile and pulls her wrist from my grasp and she sits back down on the edge of the table, gently moving my leg so she has better access to my thigh. She begins to massage it tenderly through my sweatpants and I let out a small, involuntary groan, partly from pleasure, partly from pain. She doesn't stop though and continues to knead her beautiful fingers into my mangled thigh.

The last thing that comes into my head before I fall asleep is _God, this woman is perfect. I need her._


	26. Chapter 26

House is being discharged today and I have to admit I'm glad. It's hard to be close to someone when they are in a hospital bed. Even more so when one of their legs is permanently damaged, their other leg in a brace and one of their arms in a cast. Romantic it is not.

Whilst Wilson decided to go to House's room and wait with him I offered to go and get the wheelchair that House would be spending the next week or so in. As I pushed the chair back to his room I couldn't help but think of what life was like for him after his infarction. Questions that I would never ask him ran through my mind: _did you think you'd never walk again? Was physiotherapy really that bad? How did you react when you realised you'd never be able to run, play lacrosse, or even walk properly again? How long was it before you could stop using the wheelchair and start using crutches? _All of these were questions that I knew, if I ever asked him, would do more harm than good. Just because House liked invading into people's histories (and hurting them by doing so) doesn't mean that I do, so the many questions were pushed to the back of my mind.

I arrive at House's room with the chair and watch, slightly dumbstruck, as he tries to move himself off the bed, before I manage to say "what do you think you are doing?"

I love him, but he drives me insane! As a doctor he should know that he cannot put weight on his dislocated knee and his damaged thigh would not be able to hold him upright. Along with the fact that he can't rely on both of his arms to help him. When he replies to my question with a sarcastic comment I can't help but vent some of my frustration on him: "I meant, why are you trying to get into the wheelchair yourself? Would it kill you to accept help for once in your fucking life?!"

I hadn't meant for it to come out as harshly as it did, and I begin to open my mouth to apologise when House suddenly starts to yell at me: "I HAVE TO ACCEPT HELP EVERY FUCKING DAY OF MY LIFE CAMERON! I HAVE TO USE A FUCKING CANE TO 'HELP' ME WALK! PEOPLE HOLDING DOORS OPEN FOR THE POOR FUCKING CRIPPLE! HAVING TO HAVE SOMEONE CARRY MY BAGS FROM THE STORE BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE TWO FREE HANDS! SO EXCUSE ME IF I WANT TO MAINTAIN A LITTLE FUCKING DIGNITY!"

To say I'm shocked would be an understatement. I look at him as he slumps down on the bed a little before he glances back up at me, his cerulean eyes meeting my hazel ones. I don't feel sympathy, nor pity for him just...sadness. I can't bear the look he is giving me so I turn and leave the room and head to the roof.

As I pace back and forth a million thoughts run through my head at once: _could you possibly have been more insensitive Allison? Being in a wheelchair, even if it is temporary, must be hard enough for him as it is! You had to open your big mouth – he is clearly still uncomfortable about accepting help because it reminds him of perhaps the worst time in his life. When he could barely do anything for himself. When he had to accept help for the slightest thing.  
_I stop pacing when I see Wilson's car pull out of the car park and I race down the stairs, knowing what I needed to do.

I race down to the conference room to grab my bag before practically flying down the stairs. I had to get to him, I had to explain to him. I ran through the lobby and into the car park, narrowly avoiding getting hit by a car. I don't think I have ever needed to see someone so badly in my entire life. I get into my car and make for House's apartment, but not before making a quick stop at a local Chinese place.

I pull up outside House's apartment, relieved to see Wilson's car is already there. I turn off the engine and sit in the car for a few minutes, my desperate need to see House is slowly diminishing, to be replaced by a cold fear in the bottom of my stomach. I can't help but feel that he will not want to see me. Not that I blame him after what I said. The thought of him pushing me away now, after the past few weeks, gives me a funny feeling deep inside my heart and it is something I don't ever want to have to feel again.

Inhaling deeply I get out the car and soon find myself in front of House's door, knocking gently. Wilson opens the door to me and although he raises an eyebrow at me he doesn't say anything, he simply opens the door further for me to enter. Somehow he seems to know it is me and asks me "why are you here?" He sounds tired and in pain and it takes all of my inner strength not to drop the food and wrap my arms around him. Wilson seems to notice the slight tension in the atmosphere and he quickly takes his leave, hugging me and placing a comforting hand on House's shoulder before leaving the two of us alone.

House breaks the silence by asking me again "why are you here?"

I can't bring myself to talk to him yet so I appeal to his appetite by placing the food on the table in front of him before I begin to dish it out. Unthinking, I hand him a carton of chow mein, as well as some chopsticks before I start on my food. It is only when I hear him sigh do I realise my massive faux pas and I quickly move to set things right. I put my own food down and sit gently on the edge of the table, taking his carton and chopsticks from him. He looks at me and in his beautiful blue eyes I swear I could see a glimmer of fear. He gives me the slightest of nods and allows me to feed him. This is the second time I have ever seen him so vulnerable, the first time being when I kissed his scar. I see the same heartbreaking fear and trepidation in his eyes as I did then and it kills me inside.

When we are both finished I sit silently for a while, not entirely sure how to say what I want to tell him. In the end my mouth just opens of its own accord and the words spill out, my voice barely more than a whisper as I tell him: "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I never...I never thought of it like that. I never thought about how much help you have to accept on a daily basis, whether you want it or not. Please forgive me."

When he doesn't react I move to leave but his free hand grabs my wrist and he mumbles "stay. My thigh...it hurts..."

I know that it is about as close to an apology that I'm going to get from Greg House so I smile, sit back down on the edge of the table and very tenderly move his leg so I have better access to it. I massage his thigh, ignoring the slight pull of the stitches in my hand as I do. I'm just glad to be able to touch him, to be near to him. As my fingers feel his disfigured thigh I blink back tears, knowing that this is the cause of his helplessness. I look up at him, slightly relieved to see he has fallen asleep and as I look at him I think to myself _God, I love this man. _

**A/N: Like it? Please R&R! Reviews make me update faster!  
BTW, I would really appreciate it if you would check out my other stories, they all have a sad and distinct lack of reviews **


	27. Chapter 27

It took six weeks for me to recover from crashing my bike. I had to be in that goddamned wheelchair for three of them and it just about killed me. Every time I sat in it I had flashbacks of my life post infarction and I hated it. Every time I sat in that chair I was reminded of when I first came out of hospital after the surgery on my leg and how I was convinced I would never walk again. How it was Stacey who was pushing the wheelchair, the woman who would leave me with a constant reminder of her betrayal. But worst of all it reminded me of the pain. The agony in my thigh as well as the excruciating pain in my soul, caused by the knowledge that the woman who claimed to love me had done this to me.

One good thing came from my accident. Something that made the humility I felt at being in a wheelchair almost bearable. And that something comes in the form of a person. Allison Cameron. Although Wilson never strayed too far Allison was almost constantly by my side, looking after me. What is disconcerting to me is the fact that I didn't mind. When Stacey tried to take care of me after the infarction I couldn't bear it. Her very presence made me sick. OK, it probably had a lot to do with the fact that it was her fault I was in that situation but even when she left me alone, the scent of her perfume remained and I felt like I would never be rid of her.

I contemplated this as I sat at my desk on my first day back at work after my accident. My limp was slightly more pronounced and I had a small splint on my wrist instead of a cast but other than that I was fine. As we didn't have a case I sat in my office, trying to distract myself from thinking about Cameron. Questions I would never ask her run through my head: _would you like me if I could walk properly? Why did you help me these past few weeks? Was it pity? Your duty as a doctor? Guilt? Or maybe a combination of the three? Did you enjoy seeing me helpless?_

I quickly try and shake those thoughts out of my head as I glance down at my thigh. Of course she didn't like seeing me helpless. I think even she would draw the line at that being a turn – on. Even though Cameron had willingly kissed my scar, as well as witnessed a bad pain day, I doubt she would be able to cope when the spasm's are so bad I literally cry out for someone to kill me. The spasm's that last all weekend. I can't, no, I won't let her witness that. She deserves someone who can look after her, who can carry her to bed when she falls asleep on their lap, who can fuck her against a wall and carry her over the threshold when they marry. I look at my cane as I whisper to myself "Cameron deserves someone who...who has the full use of both of their legs."

I hang my head slightly as I realise what I have to do. I have to let her go. It's not fair of me to keep on giving her false hope. I sigh sadly, my hand trembling slightly as I page her to my office...

**A/N: sorry this is only a short one! R&R is love!**


	28. Chapter 28

He is back at work today. The only evidence that he was ever in an accident is the splint around his wrist and his more obvious limp. I know what is going to happen now he is back. He is going to start to push me away, he is going to resent me for seeing him injured and helpless. He was in the wheelchair for three weeks and in those three weeks Wilson and I never strayed far from his side. Wilson continued to go to work but Cuddy allowed me time off to look after House. She knew I blamed myself for his accident.

As I spent time looking after him I came to a slightly startling revelation - that I am in fact, in love with Gregory House. I knew I had feelings for him but I pushed those emotions to the back of my mind. However, caring for him and hanging out with him in his environment made me realise how deep those emotions go and it scared me.

I hated seeing him in that wheelchair. The look on his face when we had to move him from the bedroom to the living room or from the living room to the bathroom was absolutely heartbreaking. Every time he had to sit in that bloody contraption his eyes seemed to glaze over and I knew all he was thinking about was his life after his surgery. He would never admit it but every time we had to move him you could see a hint of fear in his eyes.

I'm not sure if I could cope with him pushing me away. Not now I have gotten so close to him. I have seen the vulnerable, soft side of Gregory House I always knew existed and it makes me feel emotions I thought I'd buried along with my husband. For him to reject my love or friendship would destroy me.

I glance down as my pager goes off. It's House, asking me to go to his office. I suddenly feel like I'm drowning and I know. It's like a sixth sense. He is going to push me away for good. My heart isn't going to be able to cope with it this time...

**A/N: slightly evil cliff hanger I know but don't worry! Things are not over for hameron! R&R pwetty pwease?!  
P.S – I'm fully aware of the fact that the past couple of chapters have been rather short, but I didn't want to focus **_**too **_**much on the characters own private monologues (if that makes sense?)**


	29. Chapter 29

I paged Cameron and when I heard her coming down the corridor to my office I stood and painfully made my way to the side of my desk. I was determined to show her why she shouldn't be with me. I quickly popped two Vicodin as I heard her gently knock at the door. When I didn't reply she just came in anyway and as she walked towards me I took my hand off the desk and, without anything for support, I moved towards her. I took a step, deliberately putting my weight on my bad leg, but I couldn't do it. The pain was overwhelming and I crumpled to the floor, automatically grabbing my thigh as white hot bolts of pain shot through my body. She rushed to my side, kneeling down next to me "House! House, what do you think you were doing?" She frantically searched my pockets for my drugs before finding them and giving them to me.

It took me a moment to catch my breath and for the Vicodin to kick in and once it did I looked into her beautiful face, her forehead creased with worry and I said "I wanted...to show you...why you...can't be...with me."

She looks at me incredulously before replying coolly "and how were you doing that?"

I stare at her before telling her "did you not just see me fall to the floor after trying to fucking walk?" My voice is laced with anger and I desperately try to keep my cool.

She raises an eyebrow as she replies "y-e-sssss," she draws the word out "but I fail to see how - "

I cut her off by saying "you can't be with me because I can't fucking walk Cameron! You shouldn't waste your life with a cripple."

The look she gives me almost reduces me to tears. She looks at me with such love and yet such sadness. She leans forward and gently wraps her arms around me, pulling me close to her slender body. I murmur into her ear "you would only be wasting your life. Don't do this to yourself."

She places a soft kiss on my cheek before murmuring back "it's my life to waste." She pulls away from the embrace to look at me "and do you honestly think it bothers me that you walk with a limp?"

I can't look at her as I answer "it bothers me." My voice is so quiet I don't expect her to have heard me.

She strokes my hair gently and I force myself not to close my eyes at her gentle touch. "House, it kills me every day to have to see you walk with a cane. And the reason it kills me is because I hate seeing you in pain. What will it take to convince you I don't give a damn about the fact that you walk with a limp?"

I look at her and all I see in her eyes is honesty and my mouth curves upwards in a small smile as I reply sadly "you don't know what you are saying Cameron." I couldn't believe this beautiful creature would want to waste her time with a crippled old man like me.

She sighed, clearly exasperated and she stood up and began to pace "I'm getting tired of this conversation House. Why can't you just accept the fact that I like you for you?"

"No you don't. You only like me because I'm damaged, broken. You just want to fix me." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them and Cameron instantly stops pacing. She looks at me like I've slapped her in the face and the hurt in her eyes wrenches at my heart.

She bites her lip slightly before replying softly "if I wanted to fix you don't you think I would be going on at you about doing physiotherapy? That I would be nagging you about how much Vicodin you take, and the fact that you take them with alcohol? Don't you think I would be suggesting that you attend therapy to help you come to terms with your leg? Have I done any of these things House?"

I pop another Vicodin before kneading the heel of my hand into my thigh in a desperate attempt to stop what remained of the muscle from tensing. I know she is right but I can't bring myself to admit it. Nor can I bring myself to ask her for help in standing up so instead I murmur "can you pass me my cane?"

She nods and picks up my cane before handing it to me. She has the good sense to stand back and not offer her assistance, for which I am grateful. I stand my cane upright on the floor, my hand gripping it tightly as I push myself to my feet, keeping my injured right leg straight. Once I'm on my feet I wobble slightly and Cameron is by my side, steadying me. "Don't want you falling and hurting yourself again old man." She smiles and my mouth quirks upwards in a small smile back.

I limp painfully forward to sit in the chair in the corner of the room. I slowly lift my bad leg onto the footstool and watch as Cameron gently perches herself on the edge of it, her hazel eyes looking at me intently. I gaze back at her, absent – mindedly rubbing my thigh as I realise I'm looking for any excuse to push her away, when really all I want to do is pull her closer. I look away and frown as I remember the last time I allowed someone that close. But the longer I think about it, the more I realise that Cameron is not Stacey and, for reasons still unfathomable to me, she likes me despite my bum leg and bad attitude.

"Cameron," I say softly and she seems to jump slightly, startled by the sound of my voice, "I'm...I'm not good with this emotional stuff...I do like you...but you have to understand I –"

I'm silenced by a hand over my mouth and she smiles at me. "It's ok. You don't have to say anything. We will take it slow. I just have one request. Please, stop using this," she places a gentle hand on my crippled leg "as an excuse to push me away, ok?"

I nod and take her hands in mine as I gently pull her towards me, her delicate body settling itself on my left thigh as she smiles at me. I look up at her, my eyes roaming across her beautiful face before finishing at her lips. I curve my hand around the back of her neck and slowly pull her face closer to mine until we are nearly touching.

"Are you going to kiss me now?" Cameron asks me, her voice childlike and innocent.

I chuckle and reply "yes, thank you for that astute observation, Miss Narrator," before I close the distance between us and press my lips to hers, kissing her tenderly.

She immediately responds to the kiss, her right hand caressing my stubbly face, her other hand still resting on my thigh. The kiss is just like her – sweet, tender and compassionate. There are no tongues, just lips and gentle caresses. She eventually pulls away and rests her forehead against mine, a look of contentment on her face. She runs her fingers through my hair as she whispers "so, back to your place?"

**A/N: so sorry about the wait! I have been ill with an excruciatingly painful impacted wisdom tooth I'm not overly happy with this chapter even though I must have rewritten it about 6 or 7 times. Anyway, R&R and let me know what you thought!**


	30. Chapter 30

I glance down at my pager and as soon as I see it is from House I start to head up to his office, my heart breaking with each step I take. I silently pray to a god I don't believe in that he will not try to push me away. I reach his office and notice the blinds are partially drawn so I knock gently on the door. When he doesn't answer I decide to go in anyway, figuring that if he paged me to his office, he must be in there.

As I entered his office I see he is stood by his desk, using it to support himself rather than his cane. I begin to move towards him, but as I do I see him take his hand away from the desk and attempt to walk towards me. The whole thing seems to happen in excruciating slow motion – he puts his weight on his bad leg, but the distinct lack of thigh muscle means it cannot support him and I watch helplessly as his leg gives out from under him and he falls to the floor. I see his face contort in pain as he grabs his thigh in a desperate attempt to alleviate the pain. Once he is on the floor everything seems to go back to regular speed and I quickly go to his side, kneeling next to his crumpled body whilst I search his pockets for his Vicodin before finally asking him "what do you think you were doing?"

We both wait for his drugs to kick in and when it does he answers my question. What he says to me shocks me to my core: "I wanted...to show you...why you...can't be...with me."

I look at him for a moment, a little confused by what he meant, so I ask him how he was showing me why he can't be with me. When he tells me I'm still puzzled by what he means so he eventually snaps at me: "you can't be with me because I can't fucking walk Cameron! You shouldn't waste your life with a cripple."

I resist the urge to throttle him out of frustration. How many times do I need to tell him I don't give a damn about his leg?! So instead I do the next best thing and I lean forward and wrap my arms around him, hugging him gently. When he tells me that I'll be wasting my life with him I have to force myself not to cry. So I tell him it's my life to waste and kiss his cheek softly. I ask him gently "do you honestly think it bothers me that you walk with a limp?"

His response is so quiet I only just catch it: "it bothers me," and my heart breaks for him. I don't understand how a man who is so brilliant and who has so much sex appeal can think himself so unworthy of love just because he has a bum leg.

I stroke his hair, loving the feel of it under my hand as I tell him "it kills me every day to have to see you walk with a cane. And the reason it kills me is because I hate seeing you in pain. What will it take to convince you I don't give a damn about the fact that you walk with a limp?"

When he suggests I don't know what I'm saying I move away from him, so frustrated at this brilliant but impossible man. In order to calm myself down I start to pace back and forth and I essentially tell him to change the record. Why can he not understand I don't care about his bloody leg? What he says next stings me to the core: "No you don't. You only like me because I'm damaged, broken. You just want to fix me."

His words cause me to stop pacing and I just look at him, hurt clearly written all over my face. I find myself biting my lip before I reply to his accusation: "if I wanted to fix you don't you think I would be going on at you about doing physiotherapy? That I would be nagging you about how much Vicodin you take, and the fact that you take them with alcohol? Don't you think I would be suggesting that you attend therapy to help you come to terms with your leg? Have I done any of these things House?"

It doesn't surprise me when he doesn't reply. I watch him, feeling helpless as he pops another Vicodin and desperately rubs his thigh. I know he is too stubborn to ask for help in getting up, and I know better than to ask if he needs it, so it's a relief when he asks me to hand him his cane. I give it to him and stand back as he pushes himself to his feet. Once he is standing he wobbles slightly and I can't help myself – I go to his side and steady him. In order to stop him from feeling embarrassed about it I try to make a joke out of it by saying "Don't want you falling and hurting yourself again old man," and I am relieved when he gives me one of his slight smiles.

He moves to sit in his corner chair, slowly lifting his bad leg to rest it on the footstool. Unsure what to do with myself, I sit down on the edge of the footstool and look at him. I never ceased to be amazed by how beautiful his eyes are and am happily, but subtly, gazing at them when his voice startles me out of my reverie and I pay attention to what he is saying: "I'm...I'm not good with this emotional stuff...I do like you...but you have to understand I –"

That is all I need to hear so I cover his mouth with my hand to prevent him from saying anything else. I tell him that we will take it slowly. I also tell him to stop using his crippled leg as an excuse to push me away. He nods as he agrees to my terms before he takes my hands and pulls me towards him. Somehow I manage to land on his good leg and watch him as he studies me, his cerulean blue eyes roaming over my face. I see his hand reach around the back of my neck as he gently pulls me closer to him. I break the tenderness of the moment by saying "Are you going to kiss me now?"

His reply makes me smile: "yes, thank you for that astute observation, Miss Narrator." Before I know what's happening he closes the gap between us and is kissing me, his lips soft and tentative against my own. Happiness pours through me and I reach up to caress his cheek, his stubble feeling wonderful beneath my fingertips. Eventually we pull away from each other and rest our foreheads together, my hands once again running through his hair. After a while I smile softly and whisper "so, your place or mine?"

**A/N: hope you liked it! R&R please!**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: smutty chapter alert!**

I can't believe I'm doing this. Allison Cameron is walking next to me as we head down to the car park to go to our respective cars. We stop at the handicapped spot where my corvette is parked and she smiles at me before asking shyly "would you like me to pick up some food before I come round?"

I nod and she smiles at me again, happiness evident in her beautiful hazel eyes, before heading to her own car. I watch her as she walks away, appreciating the slight sway of her hips as she moves. I climb into my corvette and drive home, and once I get there I do a quick check of the living room and determine it is not too untidy. I hobble down to my bedroom to change the bedcovers. A bit presumptuous I know but I do it just in case. Once I pull the comforter over the pillows I hear a gentle knock at the door and I know it could only be Cameron. For some reason my heart is pounding with anticipation. I open the door and let her in, my mouth dry and my palms sweaty. I feel like a teenage boy on his first date.

She comes in and kisses me tenderly on the cheek, before looking up at me with her big doe eyes and it takes all my willpower not to ravage her there and then. The sound of her voice brings me out of my thoughts "House! Where should I put these?"

I blink and look down at her, almost like I'm seeing her for the first time in my apartment when I realise she is holding two pizza boxes. I gesture to the table in the middle of the room and she nods, moving to put them down. She places them on the table before putting her bag on the floor and removing her jacket. She has the grace of a ballerina and as I watch her move around my living room I feel compelled to touch her, which surprises me slightly as I'm not usually a touchy – feely person. I move behind her and wrap my free arm around her waist, burying my face in the crook between her neck and her shoulder. I feel her relax against me as she entwines her fingers with mine. "Hi," she whispers softly and I can hear the smile in her voice.

I don't reply but instead begin to place gentle kisses along her swan – like neck. I feel her clench when my lips brush over the two inch scar that runs along her neck and she quickly pulls away from me, saying "the pizza's getting cold."

I want to ask her about it but I'm scared at what she'll tell me so I stay quiet, watching her as she nibbles her pizza. We finish eating and she leans into me, resting her head on my chest. I smile softly down at her tiny form curled up against me."Comfy?" I ask her. She nods her head by way of a reply.

Though her eyes are closed I know she is awake so I decide to ask her the question that has been on my mind for several weeks now: "Cameron...how did you get those scars?" I try to keep my gruff voice as gentle as possible as I trail my fingers down her back and over her waist.

As soon as the question has passed my lips she stiffens. "Please House," she whispers "they are from a long time ago. You don't need to know the story behind them."

I can't help but feel a little put out by that statement so I reply "you know the story behind mine."

She sits up and looks at me before gently placing a hand on my scarred thigh, the action making me flinch slightly but I don't stop her. "The story behind your scar is tragic, mine is..." she pauses, clearly trying to think of the right word. She sighs softly and says "the story behind mine is pitiful. And I will tell you someday, but today is not that day."

I look into her hazel eyes and she seems to silently plead with me to drop it so I nod slightly and she unclenches, visibly relaxing and I can't help but wonder what could possibly have happened to make her so scared to tell me. Her hand is still on my thigh and she softly runs it up and down over the scar tissue before asking "how is it? You took a nasty fall earlier."

From anyone else that level of caring would have made me lash out with plenty of rude platitudes, but from her, it is said with love and with an affection that does not equal pity. I place my hand on top of hers and reply "it's fine. And by 'fine' I mean it hurts. But then again it always hurts so my initial statement was correct. It's fine."

She looks up at me with a wicked glint in her eye and she purrs softly "would you like a distraction?"

She runs her other hand up my left thigh and teasingly brushes my groin with her fingertips and I let out a low groan as I feel my blood rush to a certain part of my anatomy. I reach out and brush her hair away from her face and she smiles, leaning her cheek into my hand, almost like a cat would. I know my leg would not be able to cope with any sexual activities on the couch so I lean up and kiss her passionately before growling in her ear "bedroom. Now."

She giggles and nods, reluctantly pulling away from me and heading to the bedroom. I quickly swallow three pills and limp after her, noticing that she has discarded some of her clothes along the way. I reach my bedroom door and stop, momentarily paralysed by what I see before me. Allison Cameron is lying on my bed, wearing nothing but a black and white polka dotted bra with a matching thong. She somehow manages to look like a wanton sex goddess and a delicate wallflower at the same time as she looks up at me shyly, a bashful smile on her beautiful face. I don't think I have ever been so hard in my entire life, my cock aching to be freed from the confines of my jeans to be inside her.

I move slowly to the bed, unable to take my eyes off her. I sit on the edge of the bed and slowly run my hand down her body, starting at her shoulder, moving down her clavicle and over her waist and hips before stopping at her beautifully proportioned ass. As I look at her I briefly glance at the three scars that mar the skin covering her abdomen but push the thought of them to the back of my mind as I murmur softly "you are a goddess."

She blushes softly and bashfully turns her head away. The action is so cute I have to force myself not to pounce on her right there and then. Not that I could, bum leg and all...hold on, did I just describe something as cute?! What has this woman done to me? Not wishing to waste anymore time I place a gentle kiss on her exposed shoulder before I begin to remove my shirt as I desperately try and ignore my trembling fingers and the butterflies in my stomach that indicate that I am, in fact, nervous. She tilts her head slightly and places her small hands on mine, and I look up at her questioningly. She gives me a tender smile before asking "are you ok? If you don't want to do this..."

"I do! I do want to its just..." I look away from her, slightly embarrassed.

"Just what?"

I sigh and I find myself still unable to look at her as I mumble "I haven't...since Stacey..."

She doesn't say anything, she just wraps her slender arms around me and embraces me tightly. I inhale her scent and smile. This goddess that I have in my arms is intoxicating. And I need her. She pulls away from the embrace and looks me in the eye "we'll take it slowly then," she whispers as she pushes my shirt off my shoulders.

I quickly toe off my trainers and socks before I begin to place tender kisses along her elegant neck and down her shoulder. I bite on the skin before softly sucking on it, marking her as mine. She pushes me back to help me remove my t – shirt. Once she removes it and I'm left clad just in my jeans she lets out a small "oh!" and I can't help but smirk.

She pulls back and openly gawps at me. I reach out and caress her face as I murmur "enjoying the view?"

She leans her cheek into my hand as she purrs softly "I never expected you to be so...so..."

I smirk and help her out "muscular? Toned? Well – built?"

She merely giggles and nods, running her hands over my biceps and down my chest, stopping at the waistband of my jeans "are you sure?" She whispers gently.

I nod and watch as she undoes my jeans. I raise my ass off the bed to help her slide them off me, then I kick them away once they reach my ankles. We are now both clad just in our underwear, gazing at each other. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife so I lean forward and kiss her, pushing her back onto the mattress as I do. The kiss starts off slow and tentative, allowing me to savour the feel of her lips against my own. As I kiss her my hands explore her body and as they do she lets out a small moan and I slide my tongue into her mouth, exploring her.

I pull away from the kiss to move myself fully onto the bed so I'm lying on my side next to her. I hope she doesn't notice how I have to lift my right leg onto the bed. I quickly resume kissing and exploring her, my hands caressing her breasts before I move down to her hot, wet core. Her tiny thong is already saturated and I can't help but grin, knowing that I am the cause of it.

I move away from her mouth to kiss down her neck as I remove the ridiculous scrap of material that covers her pussy. I feel my cock harden and throb in anticipation as I press my hand to her mound, eliciting a soft gasp from her. I gently trail my fingers over her labia, before sliding my finger inside her, finding her clit. I press down on it and rub it softly, making her moan. I lubricate my finger with her wetness before sliding it inside her, curling my finger up in a 'come hither' motion in order to find her g – spot. I know I have succeeded when she bucks her hips slightly and makes a deep purring sound. I lubricate my middle finger and slide it in as well, my thumb finding her clit again and pressing against it as I finger – fuck her. She moans with delight and grabs the bedcovers in her hands. I smile and continue to slide my fingers in and out of her, hitting her g – spot each time. She groans "oh yes...Greg...I'm so close..."

I continue to finger fuck her, but I slow down in order to allow my thumb to press hard against her clit. She arches off the bed and I feel her walls flutter around my fingers as she orgasms and it is quite possibly the most erotic thing I have ever seen. So much so, that it takes all my self control not to blow my load right there and then. I pull my fingers from her pussy and I make sure she is watching before I slowly lick her juices off my fingers, moaning appreciatively as I do.

Once I'm satisfied my fingers are clean I lean in and kiss her. She immediately allows me entry to her mouth before she starts to suck on my tongue, tasting herself.

My hands roam over her body before sliding around to her back so I can unclip her bra. I pull away from the kiss to remove the bra and I smile, liking what I see. Her breasts are not big by any stretch of the imagination, but they are perfectly formed and in proportion to her small body. I lean down and flick my tongue against her nipple as I throw her bra across the room. I nibble and suck gently on her hard buds, loving the way Cameron runs her fingers through my hair as I do. I move from one breast to the other, giving it the same amount of attention I gave the first. Cameron purrs happily as she runs her hands down my arms, her touch so tender yet so erotic at the same time.

I pull away from her breast to look at her, and all I see when I look in her eyes is pure and unadulterated lust. She leans up and kisses me before pulling away to growl softly "I want you to fuck me now."

I raise an eyebrow and smirk as I reply "condoms are in the top drawer."

She leans over and reaches for a condom as I teasingly play with her breasts, my hands caressing them. She pulls out a rubber and turns back to me "lie on your back."

She says it with such an authority and dominance I immediately comply. She straddles my shins and grins at me. She slides my boxers down and smirks, raising an eyebrow at how long and hard I am. Even though she has already seen it, my right hand automatically moves to cover my scar but she gently pushes it away. "Trust me," she whispers.

She raises herself up slightly so she can pull my boxers off before she straddles my shins again. She pulls the condom from its wrapper but doesn't put it on straightaway. Instead she leans down and begins to kiss and tenderly lick my scar, her right hand holding the rubber. When she reaches the top of my thigh she looks up at me with a deliciously wicked look in her eye before she moves to take my length in her mouth, sucking it softly. I groan with pleasure, but it quickly becomes a groan of frustration as she pulls away and puts the condom on the head of my cock. However, instead of rolling it down with her fingers, she uses her mouth and I can honestly say I have never been so turned on in my entire life.

She looks up at me and whispers breathlessly "ok?"

As I am currently incapable of coherent thought I merely nod as I watch her move up my body and position herself over my throbbing erection. She slides herself down, inch by beautiful inch until I am fully immersed inside her. She does nothing for a few seconds, as she gets used to the size of me, her tight walls pressing around me. Slowly, she begins to move, rocking her hips slightly as she squeezes her keigel muscles around me. I tilt my head back and groan, wondering where the hell she learnt to do that.

She keeps this up for a few minutes, clearly enjoying torturing me when I decide it's my turn to take control. Using my upper body strength I flip us over, ignoring the jab of pain in my leg from where I jarred my thigh. I rest my body weight on my left side as I look down on her. "That was teasing," I accuse her.

She giggles and nods as she leans up to nip my neck. That is my undoing and I begin to thrust my cock into her, filling her, before withdrawing and doing it again. She arches her back underneath me as she wraps her legs around me, tilting her hips up and meeting my every thrust. Her body begins to shine with perspiration and as her breathing gets more shallow I know she is close. I run my hand down her body until I find her clit, which I massage as I keep pumping into her, hoping she will come soon. A few more thrusts and I feel her walls tighten around my cock as she screams "oh God! Greg! Yes! So good!"

I feel my balls tighten and I orgasm shortly after, my whole body stiffening as my seed fills the rubber that covers my cock. I pull out of her and lay on my back next to her, waiting for my heart to regain its natural rhythm and for my breathing to even out. Once the orgasmic bliss has worn off I feel Cameron gently remove the condom and put it in the bin before padding to the bathroom. She returns with a wet cloth and a glass of water. She hands me the glass and my pills as she wipes us both down before crawling into bed with me.

As she rests her head on my chest she murmurs sleepily "I knew it."

"Knew what?"

"That you would be good in bed."

"Oh? And how did you know that? You didn't talk to Stacey did you?"

She giggles and shakes her head "no. It's just that, well...you seem to excel in everything you do so I just knew you would be amazing in bed."

I smile softly and run my fingers through her hair as I reply "if you think I'm good now, imagine what I was like before my leg."

She strokes my chest gently as I feel her lips curl up in a smile before she falls fast asleep, her body seeming to fit perfectly against my own.

**A/N: a long chapter I know, but it didn't seem to flow well putting the smut in a separate chapter. Please review! I have had no reviews for the past few chapters and it makes me sad because it makes me think no – one likes this fic **


	32. Chapter 32

I'm so excited I'm practically bouncing up and down as I walk alongside House down to our cars. We stop at House's corvette and I ask him "would you like me to pick up some food before I come round?"

When he nods I can't help but smile at him, fully aware that happiness is written all over my face. I head to my own car and drive to the nearest pizza place, my mind buzzing with thoughts of House. I still cannot work out how this brilliant yet frustrating man can reduce me to acting like a teenage girl whose hormones are running rampant. I pick up our pizzas and drive over to House's apartment. When I arrive I can't help but feel a bit shy and nervous, though I can't work out why. I have no expectation of what is going to happen tonight, all I know is that I will be sat eating pizza with the man of my dreams.

When he opens the door to me it takes every ounce of self control I have not to jump him and make love to him right there. Instead I settle for kissing him on the cheek, loving the feel of his stubble against my skin. I ask him where I should put the food but he seems to be in a kind of daze so I ask him again, slightly more forcefully: "House! Where should I put these?"

He points to the coffee table in the middle of the room and I wonder what he was thinking about, though I know from previous experience it is better not to ask. I put the pizzas down and remove my coat and bag and am surprised when he comes up behind me and puts his free arm around my waist and nuzzles me gently. His embrace is so tender and makes me feel so safe so I lean into it and lace my fingers with his as I smile and whisper a gentle "hi."

He doesn't reply but instead begins to kiss down my neck, the action making a warmth pool between my legs. I enjoy the attention he lavishes upon me until I feel his lips kiss over the scar I would rather forget I had. As a reflex action I instantly clench and pull away from him with the excuse that "the pizza's getting cold."

I know he wants to know what happened to me but I can't tell him. At least, not tonight. We eat in a comfortable silence and once we are done I curl up next to House and rest my head on his chest. I close my eyes, hardly able to believe this is actually happening, that I am actually here, in House's apartment, cuddling him. I resist the urge to purr when I feel him trail his long fingers down my back and waist, but as he does, the one question I didn't want him to ask he asks: "Cameron...how did you get those scars?"

I stiffen in his embrace and whisper desperately "Please House, they are from a long time ago. You don't need to know the story behind them."

When he replies that I know the story behind his I sit up and gently place my hand on his wounded thigh and reply "The story behind your scar is tragic, mine is..." I desperately try and think of a word that describes the story behind how I got my scars and I eventually come up with "the story behind mine is pitiful. And I will tell you someday, but today is not that day."

I look at him and desperately plead with my eyes for him to drop it and when he gives me the slightest of nods I can't help but relax. I didn't mean it, I don't ever intend on telling House what happened as it would only serve as more proof that I only like damaged people. In an effort to change the subject I gently rub his thigh and ask him "how is it? You took a nasty fall earlier."

House is not stupid. He is fully aware of what I am doing but he doesn't deflect. He places his hand on top of mine and he answers my question in typical Housian fashion: with sarcasm; "it's fine. And by 'fine' I mean it hurts. But then again it always hurts so my initial statement was correct. It's fine."

I can't ignore my overwhelming arousal any longer so I grin at him and purr "would you like a distraction?"

I run my other hand up his left thigh and teasingly brush my fingers over his groin, smiling in triumph as I hear him groan slightly. He reaches up to brush some hair out of my face and I lean my cheek into his hand, relishing the un – House like gesture. Even though I am more than happy to jump him right where we sat I was worried about the affect it would have on his leg. I decide not to say anything and am relieved when, after a very heated kiss, he growls at me "bedroom. Now."

I giggle softly and nod, slowly pulling away from him before I begin to make my way down to his bedroom, stripping off varying items of clothing on the way. I enter his room and am slightly surprised to find the bed is made. I hear his ambling gait coming down the hall so I quickly position myself on the bed in what I hope looks like a 'sex goddess' pose. It has the desired effect though – House stops as soon as he enters the room and he just stares at me, his hard – on evident through his jeans. I'm pleasantly surprised I manage to have that kind of effect on him and all I can manage to do is give him a bashful smile.

He limps towards me and it doesn't escape my notice that it is slightly more pronounced, clearly the result of him falling on it earlier. I keep my mouth shut as I don't want to ruin the moment. He sits on the edge of the bed and he runs a tender hand down my body. I silently pray he doesn't go anywhere near my abdomen where three scars are evident. I'm very grateful he stays away from them and instead he finishes his exploration of my body by squeezing my ass and murmuring "you are a goddess."

I turn my head away from him, as I feel a blush rise in my cheeks. I feel him gently kiss my shoulder before I turn my head back slightly to watch as he fumbles to remove his shirt. I turn back and place my hands on his knowing exactly what the problem is – he is nervous and so I decide to give him an out by saying "are you ok? If you don't want to do this..." I hope he understands that I am not trying to be condescending, I'm just trying to help him feel ok with this.

When he tells me he hasn't slept with anyone since Stacey my heart aches for him. Not entirely sure what else to do I wrap my arms around him and hold him tightly to me before pulling away and whispering "we'll take it slowly then," as I push his shirt off his shoulders.

He removes his footwear before he begins to kiss down my neck again, finishing at my shoulder. He bites me before suckling the wound tenderly, giving me a lovebite to mark me as his. I push him away and pull at his t – shirt, eventually removing it and once I do I can't help but let a small "oh!" as I gaze at the sight before my eyes. He has a muscular upper body, his torso toned but not overly so and his arms are well defined – he clearly works out. Then it dawns on me that he must have had to gain a lot of upper body strength after his infarction in order to be able to use his wheelchair, then crutches. I'm just slightly amazed that he has kept it up. I realise I'm staring at him and he smirks, stroking my face as he murmurs "enjoying the view?"

I lean into his caress as I reply "I never expected you to be so...so..."

I can't find the right word to describe him so he suggests some words for me "muscular? Toned? Well – built?"

I giggle and nod, as I run my hands over his body, his toned physique making me ache for him. I stop at the waistband of his jeans and whisper "are you sure?" Despite my desperate need for him I don't want him to feel pressured. When he nods I undo his jeans and help him to slide them down his hips before he kicks them off. We stare at each other, drinking in the sight of one another wearing only our underwear. Eventually he makes the first move and leans forward, kissing me, pushing me back onto the mattress as he does. The kiss is beautiful, tender and soft and explorative, his long pianist's hands running over my body, making me moan, whereupon he slides his tongue into my mouth.

He pulls away from the kiss in order to be able to lay on the bed and it doesn't escape my notice that he has to use his hands in order to lift his wounded leg onto the bed and it pains me slightly. I hide my sympathy as he begins to kiss me again, his hands wandering over my breasts and down to my soaking wet core. He kisses down my neck as he removes my thong, throwing it somewhere before he presses his palm against me, making me gasp. He gently caresses me before sliding his finger in, finding my clit almost immediately and as he presses down on it I can't help but moan with delight. He lubricates his finger with my wetness before sliding his finger deep inside me, curling his finger and finding my g – spot. In response to the pleasure it gives me I buck my hips and purr, the sensation simply incredible. I feel him lubricate another finger before sliding that one in alongside the other before he begins to slide them in and out, finger fucking me with passion. I moan "oh yes...Greg...I'm so close..." I'm amazed that I'm actually capable of coherent thought by this point. My undoing comes when he presses his thumb against my clit and I orgasm, arching my back as jolts of pleasure fire through me.

He sucks my juices off his fingers as I come down from my orgasmic high before he begins to pay attention to my breasts, undoing my bra and tossing it across the room. He suckles on my nipples and I purr happily, but my need for him is too great for me to wait any longer so when he pulls away from my breasts to look at me I kiss him fiercely before growling "I want you to fuck me now" leaving him with absolutely no doubt of what I want.

He tells me where the condoms are and as I lean over and grab one he fondles my breasts. I quickly decide I need to take control so I tell him to lie on his back. I'm surprised when he complies but hope I don't show it as I straddle his shins and pull his boxers down, practically salivating at the size of him. My chest tightens slightly when I see his right hand move to cover his mangled thigh, despite the fact that I have already seen it. Gently I push his hand away from it and I simply say "trust me."

I move so I can completely remove his boxers before I sit back down on his shins. I pull the condom from its wrapper when I suddenly have a deliciously wicked idea. I hold the condom in my hand as I lean forward, kissing and licking his scar gently. He doesn't do anything to stop me so I continue until I reach the top of his thigh and I look up at him and grin. I shift my head slightly and take his full and pulsing cock in my mouth whereupon I suck it like you would a lollipop. I smile inwardly when I hear his groans of pleasure and I have to stop myself from laughing when he groans with frustration as I pull away. I put the condom on the head of his cock and I use my mouth to roll it down his length. When I ask him if he is ok and he simply nods I can't help but feel a great sense of pride that I rendered the great Doctor Gregory House speechless.

I cannot wait to have him inside me any longer so I move up his legs, being very careful not to put any unnecessary pressure on his damaged thigh as I slide myself onto his shaft. He is so big in both length and width that I have to inch myself down onto him. Once he is fully inside me, despite the fact that he feels incredible, I do have to take a few moments to adjust to his size. Once I do I decide to tease him some more so I rock my hips against him slowly, squeezing my keigel muscles tight around his throbbing penis.

Once he decides he has had enough of my teasing he uses his incredible upper body strength to flip us over so he is on top. I ignore his wince of pain as his bad leg hit the mattress. He looks down at me, his blue eyes seeming to look straight into my soul as he says "that was teasing."

The tone of voice in which he says it makes me giggle and I simply nod, leaning up to nip his neck. This seems to spur him into action and he begins to thrust into me. I wrap my legs around him, tilting my hips in order to match his thrusts. He seems to instinctively know when I'm close to orgasm and he brings me over the edge by reaching down and massaging my clit. That does it for me and I orgasm hard, my walls tightening around him as I scream "oh God! Greg! Yes! So good!" His orgasm follows soon after my own and once he is spent he pulls out of me and slumps onto his back, his breaths coming hard and fast like my own.

Once my breathing has returned to normal I roll the condom off his now flaccid cock and dump it in the nearest bin before going to the bathroom. Once in there I just grin like a madwoman, doing a little dance because I'm so happy. I run a cloth under the tap and fill a glass of water. I adjust my features so I'm not grinning like a woman possessed and I pad back into the bedroom. I find his pills and get two out and hand him both the pills and the glass of water which he takes happily. I wipe myself down with the cloth before wiping him clean, removing evidence of our sexual encounter. Once I'm done I put the cloth on the side and crawl back into bed with him. I don't know why I do, it just seems the right thing to do.

As I lay my head on his strong chest I tell him that I knew he would be good in bed and when he asks me why I tell him it's because he seems to be good at everything he does. I have to stop myself from purring when he begins to stroke my hair, telling me "if you think I'm good now, imagine what I was like before my leg." My heart constricts and I squeeze my eyes shut to prevent tears rolling down my face. I'm fully aware he would not appreciate my tears for him. I stroke his chest and force a smile onto my face as I drift off to sleep, thinking how well his body fits against my own.

**A/N: did you like it? Dislike it? Read, review and let me know!**


	33. Chapter 33

When I woke up I became aware of two things, the first being that I wasn't woken by an agonising pain in my thigh, the second being a beautiful brunette immunologist was asleep next to me, her right leg draped delicately over mine which explained the lack of pain. I was still very much aware of the ache in my thigh but unlike most mornings, I didn't automatically have to grab my Vicodin to cope.

As I lay there I couldn't help but stare at the goddess that was sharing my bed. Her hair was slightly messy, caused by a combination of our love making and sleep. My gaze drifts to her lips which are curved up in a slight smile, making me wonder what she is dreaming about. Unable to resist I lean forward and press my lips to hers, kissing her softly. I pull back and murmur softly "good morning Cameron."

I smirk slightly when I hear a sleepy voice reply "mm...good morning House."

She blinks her eyes open and looks up at me, smiling softly. Her smile quickly becomes a slight frown and I ask her "what's wrong?"

"Am...am I hurting you? Your leg..."

She goes to move her leg but I put my hand on her thigh, halting her movements. When she looks at me with a puzzled look on her face I explain "your body heat keeps the muscle relaxed, therefore making it hurt less."

She smiles and nods, snuggling closer to me. I wrap my arm around her slender waist and breathe in her soft scent. "Do you have to go to work today?" She murmurs softly.

"No, it's my day off and I'm not on call. You?"

"Same." she smiles up at me, kissing my nose.

"Good." I pull her even closer to me and run my hands up and down her body.

She giggles softly and nuzzles me before reluctantly pulling away. She slides out of the bed and my thigh instantly protests at the lack of body heat. Whilst she is pulling on one of my shirts I reach over to my bedside cabinet for my Vicodin, popping one as I watch her pad out of the bedroom. I rub my hand over my mangled thigh as I wait for her to return. She returns carrying two cups of coffee and a smile on her face, which falls slightly when she sees the scowl I have on mine. She hands me my coffee as she crawls back into bed before tentatively asking "what's wrong?"

"You left. And by leaving you made my leg hurt." I'm only semi – serious as I knew she would have had to have moved at some point.

She seems to pick up on the fact that I'm messing with her so she puts her coffee down and leans over, kissing me before pulling back and murmuring softly "poor House, what can I do to make it up to you?"

She runs a hand down my body and I have to suppress a groan of pleasure before replying "tell me something about you I don't know."

She blinks and looks at me "excuse me?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and I repeat the question. She stares at me with a slightly puzzled look on her face before she asks "why?"

I stroke her cheek with my index finger as I shrug my shoulder "I just want to know more about you, is that so wrong?"

She smiles and shakes her head before leaning in to kiss me "no, of course not. It's just..."

I raise my eyebrow slightly "just...what?"

She smirks "it's just that you usually use your own underhanded methods of finding things out about people. I'm surprised you are asking me outright that's all."

My mouth curves up in a wry smile. She has me pegged so well. So instead I merely gaze at her, taking in every inch of her beautiful face. Eventually she turns from me and pushes herself back so that she is sitting, her pillows propped up behind her back. I copy her actions in order to be able to drink my coffee. I can sense she is readying herself to speak so I wait, something which is not in my nature to do.

She takes a long sip of her coffee before saying "I used to be a figure skater."

Of all the things to come out of her mouth that was quite possibly one of the last things I expected. Not only that, there is such a sadness in her tone of voice that compels me to ask "used to be? Why don't you still do it?"

She looks at me and as I gaze into her hazel eyes I see such a deep sadness there I have to force myself not to look away. She takes a deep breath and she looks down at her hands before speaking; "I did figure skating from the age of three up until I was fifteen. I loved it and was very good at it. It was my life. But on the night of the seventeenth of November everything changed. I was in an accident. A hit and run to be specific. I was walking home from practice and I never saw the car coming. He hit me with such force I was thrown over the roof of his car. I would have escaped with fairly minor injuries were it not for the driver of the car behind him. He was going too fast and couldn't brake in time and he drove over my legs. I don't really remember much after that. I remember screaming before passing out and then waking up in a hospital bed."

She pauses and takes a sip of her coffee, pulling a face because it has gone cold. I lean over and pull her towards me, holding her close against my chest, nuzzling my nose into her neck. She purrs softly and I smile. I hold her for a while before asking her gently "how bad were your injuries?"

She stiffens slightly in my arms before shaking her head "the rest of that story can be kept for another day," she turns to look at me and smiles softly.

I nod and pull her into a deep kiss, only pulling away when our need for oxygen becomes too great. She giggles and I look her at "what?"

"I think that tongue of yours is magical."

I grin before sticking my tongue out and wiggling it around. She laughs and the sound of it gives me a feeling that I haven't experienced in a long time. I frown slightly as I try to push that particular feeling back down. I'm not ready for it. At least, that is what I keep trying to tell myself.

**A/N: SO SORRY about the ridiculously long time since I last updated. My muse ran away from me but I have her back now (she is currently chained to a chair in my basement) so hopefully I will update faster next time!  
Review, let me know what you thought **


	34. Chapter 34

_Greg and I are sitting on the floor of a log cabin, in front of a roaring fire, placing tender kisses all over each other. He pulls back to look at me and whispers softly "are you happy Allison?"_

_I smile and nod, replying "deliriously."_

_He grins and wraps his arms around my waist, lowering me gently so we are both lying on our backs. I reach up and stroke his face, murmuring softly "is your leg ok? Are you in pain?"_

_He shakes his head and caresses my cheek before telling me "my leg is fine. I'm never in pain when I'm with you..."_

I'm brought out of my dream by the feeling of someone's lips on mine, before hearing a gruff voice murmuring "good morning Cameron."

I grin inwardly when I realise whose voice it is and in a sleepy voice I reply "mm...good morning House."

I blink my eyes open, forcing myself awake, smiling softly when I see House's handsome face. I realise my leg is draped over his bad one and, worried that I'm hurting him, I frown slightly. When he asks me what's wrong I tell him and go to move my leg but his beautiful pianist's fingers on my thigh stop me from moving and he quells my worries by telling me that the warmth of my thigh on his keeps what remains of the muscle in his leg relaxed and so it hurts him less.

Happy that I'm not hurting him I snuggle closer to him and he wraps an arm around my waist and I can honestly say I have never felt safer than I am right now, just lying in his arms. I ask him if he is working today and he replies in the negative, telling me he isn't nor is he on call. I mentally thank a God I don't believe in as it is my day off as well. I tell him this before leaning up and placing a kiss on his nose. He pulls me even closer to him and runs his hands up and down my body. His touch sends sparks of electricity running through me and I giggle slightly, nuzzling him.

Although I'm loving being in his arms my throat is begging me for hydration so I very reluctantly pull myself from his grasp and find of his shirts to put on. As I make my way to the kitchen I do feel slightly guilty as I know that the sudden lack of body heat would make his thigh hurt. As I make us both coffee I find myself grinning like a Cheshire cat, so happy to just _be _with him. I make my way back to the bedroom but my smile falls when I see him with a scowl on his face. I give him his coffee before climbing back into bed with him. In a tentative voice I ask him "what's wrong?"

"You left. And by leaving you made my leg hurt." Despite the look on his face, his tone is playful and I know he is only messing with me, as is typical of him to do.

I put my coffee on the side before leaning over and kissing him (something which I know I'll never tire of doing) before saying "poor House, what can I do to make it up to you?" as I run a hand down his body. I'm fully expecting him to make a comment about morning sex but what he says instead shocks me slightly: "tell me something about you I don't know."

I stare at him before asking him why. His reply of "I just want to know more about you, is that so wrong?" shocks me even more and I lean up to kiss him again before saying "it's just that you usually use your own underhanded methods of finding things out about people. I'm surprised you are asking me outright that's all."

He smiles slightly at my statement but doesn't say anymore instead he merely gazes at me, his cerulean blue eyes seeming to see straight into my soul. I tear myself away from his gaze and move so that I'm sitting upright, my pillows propped up behind my back. He copies me and says nothing as I take a long sip of coffee, savouring its bitter taste. On the outside I appear cool and collected. On the inside I'm waging a battle with myself about whether I should tell him something very few people know about. Eventually I speak, and I find myself telling him "I used to be a figure skater."

Despite my best efforts I can't keep the sadness out of my voice as I remember a time when nothing else mattered to me, when the only thing I lived for was being on the ice. House clearly picks up on my tone of voice and asks the question I was dreading: "used to be? Why don't you still do it?"

I look into his eyes and see curiosity but he is not treating me as a puzzle. He appears to be genuinely interested in me and it is for that reason that I look down at my hands as I recall the night that ended my life as a skater: "I did figure skating from the age of three up until I was fifteen. I loved it and was very good at it. It was my life. But on the night of the seventeenth of November everything changed. I was in an accident. A hit and run to be specific. I was walking home from practice and I never saw the car coming. He hit me with such force I was thrown over the roof of his car. I would have escaped with fairly minor injuries were it not for the driver of the car behind him. He was going too fast and couldn't brake in time and he drove over my legs. I don't really remember much after that. I remember screaming before passing out and then waking up in a hospital bed."

I take a sip of my coffee, and I pull a face after discovering it has gone cold. I put it back on the bedside cabinet and House pulls me towards him, holding me against his gorgeous muscular chest as he nuzzles his nose into my neck. My neck is an erogenous zone and, unable to stop myself, I purr softly. He holds me like that for a while before asking in a tone of voice I have never heard him use before "how bad were your injuries?"

My body involuntarily stiffens as my mind is flooded with memories of waking up in a hospital bed and knowing that I would never skate again. I can't bring myself to tell him, not today so I shake my head and placate him by telling him "the rest of that story can be kept for another day."

He seems to accept this and pulls me into a deep and passionate kiss. Our tongues battle for supremacy and we only pull apart when we both begin to suffer from lack of oxygen. I giggle slightly and when he looks at me slightly incredulously I tell him "I think that tongue of yours is magical."

He grins slightly and sticks it out, wiggling it around, which causes me to laugh. I love the fact that he is such an amazingly intelligent man who somehow has the ability to act more childishly than some children! Oh God, did I just say love? No, no I can't believe I just used the word love! But who am I trying to kid? I have been in love with him since I first laid eyes on him. And now that I have him, those three little words are a guaranteed way to scare him off. So no, I don't love him.

**A/N: hope you liked it! Review please! They make me feel so loved!**


	35. Chapter 35

A week. A whole fucking week since I learnt about how Cameron used to be a figure skater. A whole week where every single day I have found myself outside the record's department and I have to drag myself away from going in and looking at her medical file. Again. We have had a case this week so the team has been rushed off their feet performing various tests whilst I have been sat in my office pondering both possible explanations for the patients symptoms as well as the reason why Cameron did not automatically tell me about what happened to her.

Come Friday afternoon I successfully diagnosed the patient and as much as I enjoyed the adrenaline rush that came with diagnosing her I couldn't stop thinking about Cameron and why she was reluctant to tell me about her injuries. I eventually decided to go and see Wilson as he seems to be able to speak 'woman'.

I barged into his office and sank onto the couch. For a good few minutes Wilson ignored me before finally saying "is there something you wanted House?"

I stayed silent, trying to work out how best to tell him so I just come out with it "I had sex with Cameron."

If I didn't have Wilson's full attention to begin with I did now as he gasped and began mumbling. I managed to make out some coherent words: "how? When? What happened?"

I roll my eyes and replied "honestly Jimmy, if I have to tell you _how _we had sex it may become embarrassing for the both of us."

I glance over at him to see a look of exasperation on his face and I can't help but smirk. Knowing Jimmy he won't drop the subject until he knows every sordid detail so I tell him everything, starting from my attempts to walk in my office, to going back to my apartment, having sex and her startling revelation that she used to ice skate.

Once I've finished speaking the first thing that comes out of Wilson's mouth is "you tried walking without your cane?! Actually walking, not limping?"

I glare at him before nodding slightly, speaking up before he decides to lecture me on how idiotic that was, as if I didn't already know: "yes Jimmy, actually walking, though I was rather unsuccessful. However, can you spare me the lecture on it and tell me what I should do about Cameron?"

He has a smug look on his face and it takes all my self control not to take my cane and hit him across the head with it. He looks at me for a moment before saying "have you considered the idea that she may be waiting for you to tell her something she doesn't know about you?"

I look at him blankly "like what?"

He shrugs "I don't know. Tell her about your childhood and how you were an army brat, anything!"

I nod, slowly realising what he was getting at. I may be a genius but I can be really thick sometimes. I give Wilson a slight smile in gratitude and pull myself off his couch in search of Cameron. Just as I'm about to head out the door I hear Wilson calling after me, saying "I will lecture you later about your little 'I'm – going – to – walk – without – a – cane' stunt!"

I ignore him as I head back down the hall to the conference room, silently happy when I see that Cameron is in there alone. I limp slowly over to her and as I lower myself onto the seat next to her she looks at me and smiles. I smile back at her and when she goes back to work I find myself just sitting and looking at her, unable to stop myself from thinking how beautiful she is. Eventually she turns and looks at me again, a slightly amused look on her face "is there something you wanted House?"

I blink, realising she is talking to me "hm? Oh, I, well I, I was wondering if you would like to come over tonight? You know, eat, hang out? Have sex?"

The fact that her eyebrows nearly reach her hairline indicates she is surprised, but pleasantly so and she nods "I'd love to. Want me to bring anything?"

"A girlfriend?" My eyes lit up with mischievousness.

She rolls her eyes as she smiles at me "I'll bring some beers."

I nod slightly and pull myself to my feet. For reasons unknown to me I find myself kissing the top of her head and trailing my cane – free hand down her waist. "Come to mine about six," I murmur before limping into my office. I sit down at my desk and quickly swallow a couple of Vicodin as I think about what I could possibly tell her. I frown slightly when I realise that for her to have told me a little about her past, without any real pushing on my part, indicates she trusts me. A lot. I know then what I'm going to tell her. I just hope I don't get cold feet.

At six precisely there is a gentle knock at the door. I get up to answer it, not bothering with my cane, and limp slowly over, opening the door to reveal Cameron standing there, a pack of beers in her hand and a soft smile on her face. I lean on the door frame to take in her appearance; she looks beautiful as always, dressed all in black, her hair loose around her shoulders with minimal make – up. She smirks slightly as she asks "like what you see?"

I give her one more appreciative look before nodding, pulling the door back to let her in. As she enters she reaches up and gently touches my cheek, a tender smile on her face which seems to light up her eyes. I find myself unconsciously leaning into her touch before moving away in order to hobble to the kitchen to check on our dinner. Cameron follows and asks in a slightly incredulous voice "you cooked?"

"Why always the tone of surprise? Believe it or not I can cook."

She nods and puts the beer on the table before wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her head on my back. I tense slightly to begin with, not used to such affection, but her warm body pressed against me slowly relaxes me and I find myself (though I would never admit it) enjoying just being held by her. Despite being content just standing there in Cameron's arms my leg starts to protest and I know I need to rest it. Without saying a word Cameron pulls away from me before taking my hand and leading me to sit at the kitchen table. As she pulls two beers out, before putting the rest of them in the fridge I can't help but wonder how it is she knows when my leg needs a rest. I quickly swallow a couple of my pills and wait for the throbbing pain in my leg to subside before I get up and slowly resume sorting out our dinner. I can feel Cameron's eyes on me as I move around the kitchen, my pride not allowing me to ask her to get me my cane. I can tell she is worried but she doesn't say anything, instead she just sits and watches me.

I soon place two plates of food on the table and look at Cameron to see her smiling at me, which made me smile slightly back at her. We ate in a comfortable silence, each of us glancing up every so often to look at the other. When we finished eating and after Cameron _insisted _on doing the washing up we settled on the couch, Cameron curled up against me, her delicate fingers trailing up and down my chest.

My curiosity as to what happened to her was rapidly becoming slightly overwhelming and so I sighed slightly, knowing that in order for her to tell me, I would have to open myself up to her and be vulnerable. I took the hand that was caressing my chest and entwined my fingers with hers as I began to talk: "when I was nine I nearly died." I feel Cameron lift her head up to look at me but I can't bring myself to look at her so I just carry on: "hypothermia. My father was in the military and because of this was incredibly strict. The 'crime' I had committed was not tidying my homework away before going to help my mother with the dinner. My punishment," I pause at this point, closing my eyes as the memories fill my mind, of the never ending cold, of the feeling of being weak.

I feel Cameron move up slightly and I feel her press her lips to mine before she whispers "House, it's ok, you don't have to tell me."

At this statement I finally look down at her and murmur "but I want to."

"Why?"

I take a deep breath and reply "because you never asked me to tell you something about me that you don't know."

She gives me a gentle smile and reaches up to kiss me, stroking my cheek as she does before pulling away to whisper "I know better than to ask you personal questions. I realise that you will tell me things when you are ready to and not a moment before. And I can't help but get the impression that what you are trying to talk to me about tonight is something you don't really want to talk about. But I have a feeling I know why you were doing it."

I raise an eyebrow at her and she giggles softly before continuing: "you want to know what happened to me after my accident and you felt that by telling me something private about yourself it would make me more inclined to tell you what happened."

I keep the expression on my face as neutral as possible but inwardly I was impressed (and slightly scared) by how well she knows me and I lean down to kiss her, running my hand up and down her waist. She purrs softly under my touch before putting her hands on my chest to stop me. I look at her with a raised eyebrow and she grins wickedly before saying "well, do you want to know or not?"

**A/N: my most sincere apologies for the distinct lack of updates. I shall try and get the next chapters up ASAP.  
Please read and review...ooh, and a brownie to anyone that can find the Harry Potter reference!**


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: ok, upon reflection on this piece of writing, I have decided to stop writing it from both House and Cameron's POV – it is time consuming and I feel that writing the same storyline just from different points of view is boring, not just for me as the writer but for the reader as well. Therefore, what I'm going to do is this – the chapters will still alternate between it being from House's POV and Cameron's POV but the story will move along much faster. Another reason I'm doing this is because I'm receiving less and less reviews for each chapter, which for a writer is quite disheartening. I do apologise to the readers who enjoy reading both points of view but I hope you understand why I'm doing this. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story.**

**So, just to clarify, this chapter is going to be from Cameron's POV.**

I turn away from House and stare down at my knees as I say in a quiet voice "I don't quite understand why you want me to tell you what happened to me. You are not the world's best diagnostician for nothing House, I'm pretty sure you have a good idea of my injuries."

I'm surprised when I feel one of his large, pianist's hands gently caress the small of my back as he replies "I do have an accurate idea of what happened to you. But I want to know you better Allison. I want you to tell me."

I'm slightly surprised at his display of tenderness but I don't show it, instead I sigh softly and stand up, moving away from the couch. I look everywhere but in his eyes, not wanting to see the emotion in them. I eventually begin to speak, my voice quiet and tentative; "I understand you know, how you must feel. I understand what it is like to be such an active person one day and have it ripped away from you, forcing you to watch from the sidelines. The first time I woke up after the accident I wasn't really aware of anything, except a throbbing ache in my legs. When I came to the second time I was more coherent and I see that both my legs are in traction. As soon as I saw them being held together by those pieces of metal I knew I wouldn't skate again."

I take a deep breath and carry on, still not being able to meet House's eyes; "the femur, tibia and fibula of my right leg were broken and so were the tibia and fibula of my left leg. I was lucky, the tyres of the car that ran over my legs also came dangerously close to running over my head. I was in traction for two weeks, having had surgery on my right leg to realign the femur and to put pins in both my legs. I was in a wheelchair for three months, and then progressed to crutches, then a cane. I had to endure painful physical therapy and it took nearly two and a half years before I could walk without limping."

I finally manage to look up at him and when I look into his eyes all I see is bitterness. He confirms it when he opens his mouth and says "well, at least _you _can walk without limping. Alright for some. The rest of us however," he taps his cane on the ground "are not so lucky."

I walk back over to him and sit next to him on the sofa, gently placing my hand over his hand that was gripping his cane "please House, why can you not just accept that I empathise with you?"

He looks at me, his blue eyes cold as he replies "you only endured a small amount of what I have to go through every day! You did not have to deal with unending chronic pain and at least you knew you would eventually be rid of things to help you walk. I, however, am stuck with this!" He thumps his cane on the floor.

I look at him sadly, my hand falling from his. I hang my head, causing my hair to hide my face as I tell him "I may not have had to endure physical pain House, but do you even have the slightest idea what it was like being a so – called 'cripple' in high school? To have people come up to you and ask how your career in figure skating was going, before laughing and saying 'oh I forgot, you can't skate anymore'?"

Tears trickle down my cheeks as I recall the months after the accident, and the cruelty of the people who I went to high school with. I can feel House's gaze on me but I don't look at him. Instead I continue to talk, reminding him that not all pain is physical: "I wasn't generally liked at school. Everyone saw me as an overachiever, someone with beauty, athleticism and brains and after my accident they considered it poetic justice. That 'perfect' Allison Cameron was no longer perfect. Do you know what they used to do to me when I started using crutches? They would trip me, and stand around laughing as they watched me try to stand."

I finally turned to look at him, tears running freely down my face as I tell him "so you see House, not all pain is physical. I think sometimes you forget that. And now you know what happened to me. I hope that has solved your puzzle. I think...I think I should be going now."

I stand up but I quickly feel House's large calloused hand gently grab my wrist, stopping me. I look at him and see what looks like remorse in his beautiful blue eyes. He gently tugs me down to sit back next to him and he gives me one of his trademark lopsided smiles. I give him a small smile back, accepting his wordless apology. He lets go of my wrist and I lean into him, and he wraps his arm around me, holding me close. We sit in a comfortable silence for a while, when he looks at me and says softly "do you want this?"

I look up at him, confused and reply "want what?"

"This. Us."

He looks so nervous and awkward I can't help but smile and lean up to kiss him gently before pulling back to whisper "nothing would make me happier."

He gives me his lopsided grin, says "good, I'm glad," and pulls me in for another toe – curling kiss.

**A/N: ok, so I don't know anything about medicine so I kind of winged it with this chapter (with a little help from Wikipedia) Please give me reviews, I haven't had any for the last few chapters and it makes me sad **


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